The Long Road Home
by Kianda
Summary: There was a reason Johnny didn't talk about the past. Now after reaching out to a boy in need, he finds himself on a collision course with the very issue he'd thought he'd put behind him.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

_Leave reviews!_

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter One

* * *

The peaceful slumber and quiet night of LA County's Fire Station 51 came to an abrupt noisy end. Simultaneously, the bright overhead lights and the shrill klaxon alarm intruded rudely. As one unit, six men threw off warm covers, stepped into boots, and pulled up their turnout pants. This accomplished within seconds each man ran toward the engine or rescue squad, even before the dispatcher finished speaking.

"_Station 51 MVA with injuries W 225th Street and Normandie Ave. West, 2-2-5 and Normandie Ave. Police and ambulance are responding. Time out 01:43"_

"_Station 51 KMG-365," _Captain Hank Stanley's weary voice responded into the microphone. Hank handed over the call slip to paramedic Roy DeSoto, now seated in the driver's side of the squad. Roy in turn handed it to his partner John Gage.

Noting the call in the log, placing his helmet on his head and adjusting the strap Johnny groused, "I told ya Roy this night wouldn't be peaceful."

His partner slipped his own helmet on, put key to ignition, switched on lights and siren and rolled the squad out moments ahead of the engine. Roy thinking it better not to encourage his junior partner with an answer, kept his mouth closed and eyes on the road.

When they arrived on scene adrenaline kicked in as each man visualized the severity of the accident. No bystander's were present this early in the morning so whoever called in the accident hadn't hung around.

Captain Stanley instantly surveyed the surrounding area while picking up the engine mic. "LA Station 51 at scene."

"10-4 51."

Lying face down in the middle of the glass strewn roadway a woman's body lay motionless, the mangled wreck of a four-door sedan not far from where she lay. A rather sizable, blood stained hole in the windshield told the sad story. The woman had been ejected from the vehicle.

Ten feet from the car and still running sat a badly wrecked truck. Steam could be seen and heard hissing from under the damaged hood. The smell of gasoline hung heavy in the air from the trucks ruptured gas tank. Stepping out of the vehicle with practiced ease both paramedics put on turncoats and efficiently gathered the equipment needed from various compartments on the squad.

"I'll check the woman." Johnny grimly stated. Roy nodded.

"Kelly, check the car for other victims. Lopez, take the reel line and hose down the roadway in and around the truck. Hose down the engine too. We don't need any surprises."

"Right Cap." Marco acknowledged grabbing the nozzle of the reel line and running out the hose.

Roy and Hank went toward the truck.

Reaching the unconscious woman Johnny checked for a pulse. "Ma'am can you hear me?" No response. The woman had a rapid pulse. Johnny ran a practiced hand down her arms, legs and spine checking for fractures and or bleeding. The victim had various deep lacerations on her face head and neck, one such laceration barely missing her carotid artery. Johnny quickly bandaged what he could to control the worst of the bleeding.

The paramedic told the quiet engineer who hovered nearby, "Mike she's got a broken right femur. Get me a traction splint and a backboard would ya?" Once he'd placed a c-collar around the unconscious woman's neck, he tried once again to rouse her with little success.

Mike returned with the splint and backboard. Placing the backboard next to her still form both Mike and Johnny log rolled her onto her back. He next checked her pupils for reaction to light. The right pupil was blown the left sluggish. The paramedic frowned. His fingers gently felt for abnormalities on her head. Finding a depression in her skull Johnny's stomach clenched. Another dose of adrenaline rushed through him at the implication. He checked the young woman's nose and ears for fluid drainage. He discovered fluid leaking from her right ear.

"She has a depressed skull fracture." The black-haired paramedic took her blood pressure and respiration's. Mike splinted her broken leg. Before contacting Rampart Johnny grabbed a blanket from the squad and covered her with it. Mike retrieved the necessary IV supplies knowing one would be authorized.

Meanwhile, Chet Kelly discovered the woman had been the sole occupant of the car. He went toward the truck. Marco reel line in hand was methodically washing down the roadway. As Captain Stanley force-lifted the damaged hood of the truck and pulled the battery cables, Marco hosed down the engine.

Going to the driver's side Roy peered into the window, which remarkably had only a slight crack. A male sitting in the driver's seat, eyes closed, the steering column pressed into his chest which showed an abnormal curve lay slumped over the wheel. The crack and the blood spatter present on the driver's side window suggested to Roy the man's head impacted it there. Blood stained his clothing from a sizable head laceration. He wasn't wearing a seat belt.

"Sir, can you hear me?" Roy called. The man's face exhibited a dusky tinge. Upon receiving no response Roy tried to force the damaged door open. When it didn't budge, he ran around to the passenger's side door only to find it locked.

Hank with pry bar in hand popped the driver's side door open. As soon as he did the strong stench of alcohol made his nose turn up. Reaching in Roy checked for a pulse at the man's neck. No life thumped under his fingers. With a sinking heart he readjusted his fingers and felt for a pulse again. Nothing! Sadly Roy backed away from the truck. "He's dead, Cap."

Johnny opened the bright orange box that housed the bio-phone, connecting the antennae; he picked up the black-hand transmitter depressing the button to speak. As he did so the ambulance arrived. Roy joined him.

"Rampart this is Squad 51 How do you read me?" He waited for a response.

Before Roy even asked, Johnny told him, "A depressed skull fracture."

Chet went for a blanket. Johnny happened to look at the driver of the truck just before Chet draped the blanket over the lifeless form and stilled. Color drained from his face. He made a wild grab for the bio-phone receiver as it slipped out of his hand.

Mike watched his shift-mates odd reaction alarmed at his sudden white appearance, "Johnny you alright? Do you know the individual in the truck?"

Roy also eyed his friend. "Johnny?" Whatever held his attention clearly rattled him.

"I'm okay, for a minute I…," shaking his head as if to clear it, "'No- no I don't know the person Mike."

The individual Johnny thought of would be years older then the man in the truck. Trying to put the moment behind him he once again focused on the job at hand. Realizing an answer hadn't been forthcoming from Rampart repeated, "Rampart base this is rescue five one."

A long pause later a Johnny received an answer, "Go ahead 51." He didn't recognized the voice at the other end.

Rampart we are at the scene of an MVA. We have two victims. Victim one is a female approximately 22 to 25 years of age, ejected through the windshield of her vehicle. She is unconscious at this time. Victim has a serious wound to her head in the form of a depressed skull fracture. Drainage is evident from right ear. She also has a broken right femur. There are various deep lacerations and abrasions about the head, face and neck. Vitals are, BP 100/80, pulse 110, respiration's 15. The right pupil is blown and the left is sluggish Rampart. Spinal precautions have been taken.

"_LA Engine 51 Notify Coroner we have a Code F at our location."_ Hank spoke into the HT.

"10-4 51"

"51 start IV LR TKO; keep head and shoulders slightly elevated. Place her on 8 liters of 02. Immobilize fracture. Cover and keep warm. Watch for changes in breathing. Transport immediately. What about the second victim 51?"

"Uh, Rampart second victim is Code F."

"10-4."

A black and white patrol car pulled up. A young officer exited and walked over to Captain Stanley.

Roy and Johnny loaded the woman into the ambulance. Roy hopped into the back. Johnny gave the window two slaps and the ambulance took off. The tired paramedic picked up the medical trash, and headed to Rampart in the squad. The rest of 51 headed back to the station. The police officer would wait for the coroner and tow trucks. The call took less the thirty minutes. One dead and one seriously injured because someone didn't think.

* * *

Less than an hour later 51's paramedics returned to the station. Johnny headed for the kitchen and a cold glass of milk. Roy followed if only to be sure his disturbed partner would be okay.

Physically beat, Roy wanted nothing more than to head for his bunk, though tuned in as he was to Johnny's moods, knew something nagged at his friend not to mention Johnny's reaction at the scene. "Junior what's bugging you?"

After pouring himself a glass of cold milk the wound up paramedic sat at the kitchen table. "Yah know Roy, both of those people were at fault. The man got behind the wheel after he'd been drinking, a tragedy _waiting_ to happen. If the young woman had been wearing her seat belt she wouldn't have been ejected through the windshield winding up with a serious head injury she may never recover from."

Lately they'd had their share of drinking related accidents and not once had Johnny voiced his opinion. Something else bugged his friend.

"Maybe so Johnny," he quietly tried stifling a yawn, "You can't let it eat you like this. What's got you so twisted about this one?"

Johnny kept his silence. The fact the man in the truck looked like his father had thrown him. No more than thrown him; it almost sent him into a panic. He hadn't had contact with the man in twelve years. Then out of the blue a stranger resembles him and memories time hadn't blunted, resurfaced.

Seeing people drink wasn't foreign to him. As a youngster growing up on the reservation he'd seen plenty of it. With little hope of improving the below standard living conditions, depression, poverty and anger, ran high. His father fell to the darkness of drink never considering the impact it left on his son.

Knowing Roy waited on an answer Johnny decided to let the conversation slide. He was keeping his friend from his bed and what could he tell him anyway? What happened in the past would stay there.

"It's nuthin Roy."

Over the years Roy learned you never pushed Johnny since he'd just clam up. When his friend was ready to talk nobody could stop him. His best friend could talk a blue streak, but he could be equally evasive. Once in a great while like now, Roy would catch a rare glimpse into Johnny's psyche. His partner kept a small part of himself hidden away from everyone, but instinctively he knew something about this run triggered a painful memory for him.

"I'll be around if ya need an ear."

"I know Roy, thanks." Johnny washed his glass out and placed it in the drain board. Both men quietly made their way to their bunks. Soon, Roy's even breathing told Johnny his friend had fallen asleep. It took Johnny much longer to relax, as his mind dredged up memories best forgotten.

* * *

_His mother's funeral took place two days ago. The confused, boy watched sadly as his father sat at the kitchen table, a half bottle of whiskey in front of him staring into the full glass of amber liquid. Tears ran down his cheeks seemingly aged overnight, and dripped unnoticed onto his shirt joining an ever widening stain of grief. Twelve year old John Roderick Gage watched as his father tilted the glass and downed its contents in one gulp reaching for the bottle to refill his glass. The strongest man he'd ever known, and looked up to in his short twelve years, had been reduced to this brooding, angry, unfamiliar person. _

_All John wanted at the moment was for someone to tell him everything would be okay. Tired, still recovering from the illness that almost claimed his life, he felt lost, and although he sat next to his father, totally alone. No relatives from his father's side came to offer comfort, having disowned their son long ago. Prejudices ran deep. He did have an aunt, his mother's single older sister Rose, but she no longer lived on the reservation. She came for the funeral. She'd left yesterday. There was no family left and his father all but threw the neighbors out of the house.  
_

_He missed his mother so much it physically hurt. Wrapping skinny arms around equally skinny legs he continued to keep a silent presence, not willing to leave his father alone afraid of what he might do. As if his father read his mind, he angrily informed the youngster. "She's gone. Nothing is ever going to be the same again. You will have to learn to care for yourself."_

_Something he viewed on John's face angered his father, because his parent suddenly stood, sending his chair crashing backwards. He grabbed John in a crushing grip, shaking him hard. "Don't look at me boy. Do you understand me? It's because of you she's gone. I can't be your mother! I won't be your mother! You will have to take care of yourself." _

_With those harsh words he'd flung his young son away, the force of the push sent him sprawling onto the floor were his head impacted the hard wooden surface. Johnny saw stars and felt instant pain. He lay there for a moment tears falling in stunned surprise. His father became a total stranger to him in that moment. Slowly he picked himself off the floor, rubbing the back of his head to find a knot forming. "I'm so sorry Poppy," He pleaded. His father rejected him, and his biting words proved accurate, Johnny's life never again would be the same._

_

* * *

_

Moving restlessly beneath the covers, unable to maintain a comfortable position Johnny crossed an arm over his eyes in an automatic response of a long held habit. He wanted to sleep but his mind would not let him relax.

* * *

"_John what happened to your face?" his friend Shannon Foster asked in concern. Both were sitting on the corral fence on Shannon's property talking and watching as Shannon's own horse Gray Mist, a white and gray appaloosa romped around the corral. He and Shannon had been friends for many years practically growing up next door to one another. The Foster's owned a small horse ranch bordering the Gage property. Before his mother died Johnny spent countless hours on the ranch where he developed his love of horses. The children's mothers had been close friends. Two years apart in age, he being the younger, Shannon at sixteen treated him like a kid brother. _

"_Nuthin, Shan I fell out of the tire swing."_

"_Maybe I should re-nickname you, 'Many Accidents, instead of Firefly." She teased. She'd graced him with the nickname after his mother died. She told him he reminded her of a firefly, never still for long, and on the rare occasions he chose to smile it would light up the darkest of places._

_Johnny hung his head and said nothing. He usually hid the marks, but when they were on his face, what could be done? He continued to watch Gray Mist as the horse now came to where the two youths sat. Johnny pulled out the remainder of a carrot from his jean pocket and offered it to the animal. Gray Mist quickly gobbled the treat and trotted off. _

_"Firefly you spoil him."_

"_I know Shan can't seem to help it." The grand creatures held a special place in his life. Unlike people, horses weren't spiteful, nor did they taunt or shun him because of the color of his skin. He lived in two worlds, one white and one red, but neither one offered him a place of security. _

_Shannon too had mixed blood, her mother being of the Crow tribe but unlike his family situation both sides of her family embraced the marriage._

_Sudden movement from the far side of the corral caught their attention. Gray Mist gave an angry snort as one of the ranch hands entered the corral. The appaloosa being high strung and temperamental didn't enjoy anyone on his back with the exception of Shannon. Johnny could tell the man had been drinking as he had staggered toward the horse. He succeeded in mounting him bare back. What're you doin' Bill!" Shannon exclaimed._

_Johnny knew of Bill Coleman, he had a nasty reputation for being a bully. _

"_What are you doing?" Shannon screamed again. The man gave little heed to Shannon or the state of the horse. The horse wanted nothing to do with the intruder. Twisting this way and that, the appaloosa tried with little success to throw its rider. Bucking over and over, snorting with crazed anger the horse finally twisted to far. Both horse and rider hit the dirt. Both horse and rider screamed in pain. The man landed under the frightened animal. The appaloosa desperately tried to gain its feet. Johnny quickly jumped into the corral determined to help the horse. _

"_John! Be careful" Shannon screamed._

_As Johnny closed the gap between them, the animal regained his feet avoiding the use of its front foreleg altogether. The animal stood shaking and rolling its head. Bill rolled unsteadily to his feet clutching his arm. "Damn horse broke my arm!" _

"_Look at what you did!" Johnny yelled trying to calm the horse enough to determine its injury. _

"_Stay out of it half-breed," the belligerent man sneered._

"_John!" Shannon desperately tried to gain his attention. She didn't like this man and didn't understand why he worked here._

"_You hurt the animal." Johnny said coldly. "You're drunk and shouldn't have been in here."_

"_You need to be taught how to talk to your elders' boy!" The man slurred his words but advanced on Johnny before he could prepare himself. A vicious kick landing in the fourteen year olds midsection sending him sprawling to the ground. Retching and trying to catch his breath Johnny curled up into a tight ball. Another kick landed in his ribs and Johnny cried out from the intense pain._

_"Stop it!" Shannon screamed._

"_What in the hell is going on over there!" Shannon's father could be heard yelling._

"_The ignorant half--breed is causing trouble but I took care of um." The drunken man said._

"_Bill you been tipping a few? Shannon's father questioned." You know better than to come into the corral when you've been drinking. Turning his attention to the prone boy on the ground he said, "John you best go on home." _

"_Dad Bill hurt Gray Mist! John tried to stop him!" Shannon defended her friend._

"_Bill we talked about you drinking while on the job. Since you can't seem to control yourself I won't have you working here. I'll give you what pay you have coming and a ride to the clinic for the arm, but then its best you to find other employment."_

"_Don't want any help from you, I'll find my own way to the clinic," Bill informed the upset ranch owner._

_Drunkenly he threatened the pale boy, "Half-breed, you ain't heard the last of me." Kicking up dirt as he walked past, it showered the prone form on the ground; Johnny coughed as some dirt found its way inside his mouth._

"_John, can you walk?" Shannon questioned._

_Embarrassed at being the center of attention Johnny didn't wait for Shannon's help. "I'm okay Shan." He stood feeling a little woozy and she reached to help steady him. "I need to get going before dad comes home." Taking a deep breath hurt. He just wanted to lie down._

_Shannon__ concerned for her hurting friend tried to help him but Johnny wouldn't let her._

"_Son of a..." Shannon's father cursed. Johnny glanced over to see him checking the leg of the injured horse. "His leg is broken honey, I'm sorry." Grimly he ordered, "John, take Shannon into the house." _

"_Oh Gray!" Shannon exclaimed knowing what would happen. She ran into the corral despite her fathers orders. Hugging the gray's neck she held on for dear life. She wouldn't leave. She stroked the gray's neck smoothly as large tears fell continuously down her cheeks. "I'm sorry this happened to you." She spoke to the animal. Johnny stood helplessly by watching the grief pour from his friend. _

_The hurting sad boy tried to comfort the distraught girl. He gently steered her toward the house when her father returned, rifle in hand. A single shot echoed its deadly function. Shannon all but collapsed into his arms._

"_I'm so sorry." He offered knowing it sounded empty but anything he said would be pointless. Because Bill drank too much a beloved horse was dead and his friend heartbroken._

_Sobbing into his shirt Shannon cried, "Firefly what makes people so cruel!" _


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Two

* * *

Sleep still eluding him, Johnny sat at the edge of the bed for a moment before pulling up his bunkers and headed for the latrine. He wasn't aware his actions were being monitored by his captain.

Once in the bathroom the sleep deprived paramedic splashed cold water over his face. After drying his face with a towel he leaned on the sink intently staring at his reflection in the mirror. The image looking back at him appeared normal, it had the same black hair, same colored eyes, and if he turned up his lips, the same crooked smile, but he knew a weighty sadness lay hidden within. Did anyone else see it? He did a good job hiding it from everyone, even on occasion from himself.

After a few minutes he left the bathroom and instead of heading back to bed went into the day room and sat on the couch. Henry, the stations dog immediately curled up next to him. Johnny absently stroked the top of his head. How he wished he could just erase parts of his childhood from his memory. If he had no memory of it there would be no pain associated with it. Pain from this time in his life he had in abundance. He leaned his head against the back of the coach and let his mind take him forward again.

* * *

_After the incident at the Foster's, Johnny no longer trusted it for being the haven it once was. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of thinking himself safe. The menacing way Bill hinted it wasn't over left Johnny tense and alert for trouble. He started spending less and less time at the ranch. Shannon didn't understand his sudden closed off behavior and told him so. He'd confused and hurt her._

_He'd expected some kind of retaliation from Bill, a man of his temperament just didn't walk away and leave you alone. No, there would be a price to pay for his interference, but even he wasn't expecting the form or direction the retaliation would come from. _

_Two weeks later Johnny found himself in trouble when his father came staggering into the house, shouting. _

_His father had changed with the passing of his mother. Two years of heavy drinking took its toll. No longer the happy loving man whom Johnny remembered his father lost interest in most everything, including his son. The young man learned to care for himself while trying to please his father and stay out of his way. He'd watched in despair as his father slipped away day by day into an intoxicated haze. A side effect to his father's drinking came in the form of uncontrollable rages. Johnny quickly learned to read the signs and he would do everything in his power to appease his father, to deflect his anger away from him. _

_"What ya gone and done now?" His father staggered into the kitchen, eyes red rimmed from drinking. Grabbing his arm and yanking him forward, Johnny could smell the sour odors of whiskey, cigarettes, and sweat._

_Frightened, Johnny didn't reply right away. He knew what would happen if his answer didn't please his father._

_"Answer me!" his father demanded shaking him hard, fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of his upper arms. "What is it you've gone and done?"_

_"I- I didn't d-do nuthin, I been here since I got out' a school!"_

_"I'm not talking 'bout today. I ran into Bill Coleman. He said you had a hand in getting him fired from the Foster ranch a couple of weeks ago."_

_"No! Pop honest I didn't." Johnny tried to inch away but the iron grip his father held him in allowed no escape._

_"Are you accusing him of lying now? His father took off his belt. Johnny's eyes grew large. Oh God, not the belt. His heart was racing._

_Johnny talked fast hoping to avoid what he knew would follow. His father now blocked the only exit from the room._

_"Bill drank too much, and Mr. Foster fired him cuz Shannon's horse broke its leg, and had to be put down. It was Bill's fault." _

_"He told me you bad mouthed him." Johnny moaned as he felt the first bite of the belt strike him across his chest and aching rib, causing him to suck in his breath. "You'll learn respect boy one way or the other."_

_"I didn't, I didn't" the fourteen year old sobbed dropping to his knee's his hands raised in an attempt to protect his face and head as the belt descended again and again. "Stop…Stop…Pop. Plea… ese… stop!" _

_

* * *

_"Johnny . . . Johnny."

Johnny came awake with a start to find Roy on his knees next to him. Looking around he realized he no longer sat on the coach but found himself kneeling on the floor of the dayroom. Breathing hard as the dream's images receded, he rubbed his eyes. Apparently he'd fallen asleep. He hastily picked himself off the floor and sat on the coach. His body shook.

"Are you all right?" Roy questioned, fully aware his friend wasn't, but not wanting to make Johnny more uncomfortable than he noticeably was.

"Uh, sorry Roy did I wake you?" He ran a hand through his hair now slick with sweat.

"No, I came to get a drink when I heard you cry out." In truth, Roy came awake suddenly with a feeling something was wrong. He glanced over to find his partner's bed empty and waited for Johnny to return. When he didn't he went looking for him. He'd been shaken to discover Johnny on the floor in the clutches of a powerful nightmare. His partner suffered from nightmares, had ever since he'd known him. He'd woken him from more than a few but the intensity level of this one proved far too real. _What are you reliving Johnny?_

"Intense dream huh?" By giving voice to the undeniable Roy hoped this would persuade Johnny to share his feelings and open up. He was disappointed with the answer.

"You could say that." Looking at the clock Johnny could see the morning alarms would soon sound. He felt as if he hadn't slept at all! In three hours they would be off for the next two days. Johnny planned on going camping. He'd already had everything packed in the Rover looking forward to peaceful solitude.

"It might help if ya talk about it?"

Sounding a long sigh, he said, "there's nuthin to talk about Roy, but thanks. Go back to bed." Johnny made his way into the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on. There would be no more sleeping for him. Roy stood staring after his friend a few seconds before heading back into the dorm.

"Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"You forgot your drink."

* * *

The squad wasn't involved in any morning runs so when their replacements arrived, Johnny quickly let his partner know where he'd be this weekend. Johnny loved being outdoors but the first rule of camping alone was to inform someone where you were going to be, and when you were expected back.

The weekend turned out to be a beautiful one and Big Bear always gave Johnny a thrill of wonder. The majestic vistas, the mountain alive with nature's fullness instilled a calm contentment in him. His days spent in physical exertion, and his nights spent under a canopy of stars . . . rejuvenated his tired body and rested his weary mind. For the short time he'd been on the mountain, he slept nightmare free.

* * *

On Monday Johnny pulled into the station, noting he was the last one in, but he was on time.

"_Good_ morning." Johnny cheerily greeted, snapping his fingers and pointing to Roy as he strolled into the locker room.

Chet never let an opportunity slip by to bait his pigeon. "Wow! Gage is a whole five minutes early. What's got you in such a fine mood this morning? Wait, don't tell me…ya finally score a date with the girl ya been chasin', Carlotta right?"

Roy in the process of tying his shoes glanced at his partner. _He must have had a good time he looks well rested._

Johnny knew what Chet was attempting to do and played along. "Jeez thanks man, I didn't realize ya were interested in my dating habits, but yah know the saying goes, imitation is the best form of flattery._"_ A mischievous smile touched his lips, "I did meet this really interesting chick."

Before Chet could answer, Roy said, "you're kidding right? About the woman I mean." It often amazed him how his friend could meet woman in the most unlikely of places.

"I kid you not Roy. The chick's incredible, just incredible."

"She must have been if she gave you the time of day Gage," The Irishmen baited.

"Chet . . . do the world a favor and—"

A discreet cough drew three sets of eyes to Captain Stanley who'd poked his head into the room. "Roll call in five gentlemen." _John seems to be in better spirits this morning _Hank observed. His sleep interrupted nights and nocturnal roaming had Hank concerned.

Johnny quickly dressed.

"So are ya gonna enlighten us as to why this chicks incredible Gage?" Chet asked casually.

Johnny saw an opportunity for some pigeon pay back. "Oh, I think I'll just keep you guessing, Kelly."

_I know exactly how it will bug you not havin' an answer. _Seeing the momentary flash of disappointment as it crossed his face, Johnny playfully patted Chet's back. Both men departed the room before Chet could put together an answer.

* * *

The morning progressed as each man went about doing their assigned tasks. Captain Stanley had retreated to his office muttering about the never-ending amount of paperwork he could never catch a break from.

Before they could start on their assigned chores the squad's supplies needed to be inventoried for a run to Rampart later. Roy wrote down what would be required and Johnny synced the bio-phone with Rampart. Both men then moved unto their assigned task, the hose tower.

The hose tower wasn't Roy's favorite place to be. Two things bothered the usually calm paramedic, riding in a helicopter, and anything over 15 feet. Neither stopped him from doing his job, but made him more aware of his mortality. His partner didn't have any qualms about scurrying to the top of the tower to place the hose in the rack. Johnny would sometimes use the tower as a quiet place to think.

"Are ya gonna keep me in suspense about this woman you met?" Roy inquired. "Chet's occupied with cleaning the latrine and won't be eavesdropping, so we can talk."

Johnny busy pulling out hose paused and said enthusiastically, "I'd set up my tent along this pristine lake, Roy you should have _seen it. _Water clear as glass."

He smiled at Johnny's appreciation of being in the great outdoors. "You met her by the lake then?" Roy redirecting the conversation back to his original query as he stretched out the hose.

"Nope, I met her while hiking. She had this really fancy camera. It grabbed my attention. I stopped to ask her about it."

"Of course it was the camera." Roy smirked. His friend stopping had little to do with the woman's camera, and more to do with the woman herself.

"She explained the nature magazine she worked for sent her to Big Bear for pictures of the mountain's scenery."

"Which magazine?"

"I dunno Roy, I didn't ask." Johnny started climbing the tower with hose in hand talking as he did so. "Do ya know how often I've been to Big Bear to backpack and hardly run across anybody? I mean it's _refreshing_ to actually meet someone who loves the outdoors as much as I do!"

"And?" Roy encouraged watching as Johnny hooked the end of the hose to the tower.

"We talked about camping, hang gliding, mountain climbing, everything you can do outdoors."

Roy waited until Johnny was safely down on the ground before continuing the conversation. "You talked, that's it?"

"What'dya mean?" Johnny wore a look of confusion.

Roy shook his head. Johnny at times could be as thick as pea soup. "Well . . . during all this talkin' did you manage to get her phone number, or maybe ask her out?"

"No." Johnny shook his head not elaborating further.

"Okay, I'll bite." Roy said fast becoming lost to Johnny's reasoning. "Didn't you say you think she's incredible?

Johnny shrugged. "Sure, she's incredible;" he chuckled, "and… married."

"Married," Roy repeated, deadpan.

"Yep, married."

Shaking his head Roy began, "partner, remind me not to ask . . . " only to be interrupted by the Klaxons going off.

"_Squad 51, child injured in fall. 112th W 231st street Cross Street S. Main, time out 11:18_

_

* * *

_

Please hurry!" were the first words spoken to the pair as they arrived on scene, a distraught woman waving them toward the house.

Grabbing equipment from the squad, Roy asked, "can you tell us what happened?" Keeping pace with the woman the two paramedics made their way to the front door. A black and white pulled up, and Vince got out.

The woman eyed Vince warily. "Ryan, my son and I, were coming down the back porch steps when I lost my footing. I fell on top of him. I think he broke his wrist"

The woman displayed nervousness, and Johnny quickly soothed her. "Well, Mrs.?"

"Margery Clayton." The woman supplied.

Mrs. Clayton, I'm John Gage and this is my partner Roy DeSoto. Were gonna take good care of Ryan. You said you fell too? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No, I don't think so." She answered absently.

Once they entered the house they followed the upset woman into the living room. Her son was sitting on the coach holding a bag of ice on his right wrist. He wasn't crying.

"Ryan, these firemen are here to help," his mother anxiously told him.

Roy asked, "Mrs. Clayton how long ago did this happen?"

"A couple hours now I'd say. We were getting ready," she paused to clarify, "that is my husband and I, were getting ready to take Ryan to school. We were in a rush because Ryan missed the bus and we were running late. I tripped down the steps and here we are. I wasn't sure at first if he broke his wrist, but it started to swell and Ryan said he couldn't move it, so I called you. My husband had already left for work you see. We only have one car, and the neighbors had already gone to work. I didn't know what else to do."

"You did the right thing, ma'am." Johnny assured her.

Roy sat next to Ryan on the coach and spoke softly to the boy. "Ryan my name is Roy. Mind if I look at your arm?" Ryan didn't say a word, only nodded his head. The wrist displayed swelling and discoloration. Roy gently felt for broken bones. The wrist was broken.

"Are you hurting anywhere else?" The boy pointed to his rib area. "I'm gonna lift your shirt up okay?" When Roy lifted the young boy's shirt he could see the bruising already taking place. He gently palpated the area. Ryan's grimace of pain told Roy he had a bruised rib at least. "How old are you Ryan?"

"Eleven." Ryan's answer was tight with suppressed pain.

"Ryan you're being brave," Roy spoke gently. "I know it hurts."

"S'kay."

"Mrs. Clayton is your son allergic to any medications?" Roy inquired.

"No, at least none that I know of."

"It looks like you will have to wear a cast for awhile Ryan, I'm afraid you broke your wrist." Roy mentally noted Ryan's lack of response to the news. "Your rib will be sore too. I'm going to place a splint on your wrist it may hurt when I move it." The boy remained quiet. He took Ryan's vitals while Johnny set up the bio-phone and relayed the information to Rampart. Because he needed x-rays, Rampart advised transportation.

"Oh!" Ryan's mother exclaimed. "No ambulance."

Roy and Johnny exchanged looks.

"Mrs. Clayton, Ryan's broken wrist will need to be set as soon as possible. He also has a bruised rib. The sooner he gets to the hospital the sooner he can be x-rayed, and treated for the pain."

"My husband and I will take him," she insisted.

Vince who'd been writing everything down in his notepad asked. "When will your husband be here Mrs. Clayton?"

"I called his workplace. Rodger should be here soon."

"Mrs. Clayton I'd like to be sure you didn't hurt yourself when you fell," Johnny told the agitated woman. Something wasn't adding up in his mind.

"No, no, I'm fine really." Johnny gave the woman a cursory once over with his eyes noting the bruising on her arms, and one on her right cheek. His interior alarm bell sounded. The bruises were not consistent with a fall. They were a couple of days old at least.

"Woman!" A deep voice bellowed causing everyone to jump. Roy in the process of splinting Ryan's wrist watched him visibly pale and shrink at the sound of the voice.

"I was told I was needed at home. What's a fire truck, and the police doing outside our house?"

"Rodger, I called them."

Angrily he snarled at his wife, "I thought I made myself clear earlier when I told you not too."

"Mr. Clayton?" Johnny interjected, "You're son broke his wrist and bruised his rib―"

Disdainfully Rodger demanded, "and. . . what would you know about it fireman?"

We're paramedics with the LA County Fire Department Mr. Clayton," Roy explained.

"You're not doctors, if he needs a doctor then I'll take him to ours. The boy isn't going to the hospital unless his doctor says so."

Rodger please," His wife pleaded, "Ryan is in pain."

"Shut up woman I didn't ask you!" All three men were taken aback but the harsh command.

"Now look," Johnny said, fast becoming aggravated, only to have Vince smoothly intervene.

"Mr. Connor these paramedics are here to help. Your wife called them; I think it best you relaxed."

Rodger Clayton didn't acknowledge Vince. He continued to glare at his wife.

Roy beginning to become angry himself took a moment to regroup. Keeping his eye on the now cowering boy on the coach, Roy spoke in an even tone as possible, "Mr. Clayton I need to understand. Are you refusing treatment for your son?"

"Are you hard of hearing or just plain stupid?" Roy stiffened and pursed his lips at the insult. "I just said I'd take him to our own doctor. You can leave now."

"Mrs. Clayton you are sure you weren't injured?" Johnny asked for the third and final time.

"Yes, ye," She said quickly, "I'm so sorry to have troubled you."

"It's no trouble ma'am it's what we're here for."

Roy got back on the horn to Rampart. "Rampart squad 51. Be advised the boy will be taken to his own family physician by the parents."

"10-4 51."

After the father signed the release form the troubled paramedics reluctantly left. "Roy something's not right in that house. I don't believe the woman's story."

Vince told the upset paramedic, "Johnny I have the mother's statement and the doctor's name and address. I will follow up to be sure Ryan makes it to the doctor. Unless the mother or child says anything to the contrary about how the accident happened there's little we can do for them."

After Vince left Roy told Johnny to put them 10-8 to Rampart for supplies.

Neither one said anything on the trip to the hospital. Once inside Roy ordered the necessary supplies while his tense partner grabbed a cup of coffee and leaned stiffly against the counter. Johnny's body language all but screamed how he felt. While Roy found the callous way the father treated both his wife and son . . . deplorable, he had a better handle over his emotions. These types of runs didn't occur often but when they did they were hard to take.

Dixie watched as Johnny roughly placed his cup on the counter. "I'll be in the squad."

"Bad morning?" she inquired surprised by the sullen mood of the junior paramedic.

"Up till now it wasn't."

"Let me guess you're last run?"

"The one and the same. Johnny seems to think something's off at the Clayton house."

Watching the younger man stiffly walk down the corridor, Dixie questioned, "is he going to be okay?"

"Who, Johnny, or the boy?"

"Both I guess."

Supplies in hand Roy turned to follow in the footsteps of his upset and gloomy partner. "Now there's a million dollar question I'd really like the answer too."


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with 'em_

_Johnny is determined to deal with his surfacing memories on his own, shutting out those closest to him. It's only just the beginning.  
_

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Three

* * *

Not one to keep silent over what had him riled, Roy waited for his partners rant. It didn't come. The ride to the station was made in silence, his passenger moodily staring out the window.

This unsettled the sandy hair paramedic more than he could say.

Once at the station Roy and Johnny grabbed some lunch, which the younger man pushed around his plate. The two finished hanging hose without interruption.

Hank noticing his junior medic's preoccupation pulled Roy aside. "John seems a bit distracted today."

"Cap, Johnny's dealing with the run we had this morning. He can't seem to let it go."

"I can have a talk with him, if you feel it will help." Captain Stanley liked to think he treated all his men equally, but when it came to John he dealt with him differently. Being the youngest member and prone to deep feelings of emotion made John a great paramedic, but by the same token it could emotionally cripple him if he should let it.

"Not yet Cap. Intuition tells me Johnny is working through something right now. I'll keep my eye open for any problems."

"Better make it both." Hank returned. If Gage's _something_ didn't work itself out soon, Hank would engage his junior paramedic in a candid conversation.

* * *

The afternoon progressed slowly. Around three until around three in the afternoon. The station responded to an MVA involving a car and passenger van. The driver of the van told them he'd dropped a lit cigarette which caused him to swerve into another vehicle. Four people were sent to Rampart with minor injuries.

His partner's uncharacteristic comment, "Well at least it wasn't caused by someone drinking." had Roy countering, "It's not our place to judge."

* * *

Pulling the squad into the bay Johnny alerted LA they were back at quarters. Heading for the kitchen and a cup of coffee the paramedics hadn't even finished pouring their cups when they were dispatched to a bar for a _man down_ call, only to have it canceled. Roy killed the lights and siren and slowly slid his helmet off. He found a place to turn around.

As Johnny sat staring out the window, an image of his father staggering into the house, following an afternoon of tipping the bottle, trespassed into his thoughts.

Out of the blue the medic posed a question. "Roy have you ever tied one on to forget your problems?"

Completely bewildered, Roy shot his partner a, _what in the hell kind of odd ball question is this,_ glance before answering_. _"Um, maybe once or twice."

"Did it help?"

"Johnny, what is going on?"

"It's important to me, or I wouldn't have asked you Roy." Johnny pushed.

"You're beginning to worry me yah know that?" Roy sighed but answered the question, "No it didn't help. Once I sobered up, I still had the problem plus a wicked hangover. Please talk to me Johnny." He cajoled. "Some thing is troubling you. What's this all about?"

"A problem I need to deal with on my _own_."

The fact his friend didn't want his help,was plainly apparent. Roy feeling frustrated, not buying into Johnny's answer pressed, "C'mon junior what is it you feel you have to deal with alone?" They were almost to the station, he could see it in the distance, and Roy knew Johnny would clam up as soon as they entered the bay. "Is it the last couple of shifts we've had?"

"Roy I've-" He began only to be cut off by tones being sounded.

"_Engine 51, Squad 51, construction accident 1814 E. Sepulveda Blvd. 1-8-1-4, East Sepulveda Blvd time out 17:24"_

Roy's sigh of irritation sounded loudly within the cab. _Okay junior whatever is going on with you I will find out. Maybe not today, but soon._

Johnny glanced at his partner while reaching for the microphone. "Squad 51 responding."

Roy hit the lights, and siren. Each put on their helmet. Johnny noted the response in the log complaining as he did so, "Are we the only squad working today? That's the third run in less then two hours."

Roy made a U turn. Conversation ceased. They were the first to arrive. They could hear the siren from the engine in the distance as it made its way toward them. They were met by a very excited foreman.

"What happened?" Roy asked the uptight man.

"One of my men, Jeffery Michelson was painting the side of the building when the scaffolding partially gave way. He has a safety harness around his waist connected to the scaffolding and a building anchor, but when the opposite end went it pulled the anchor away from the wall, and sent Jeff tumbling off. I think he hit his head or something because he hasn't moved."

Both paramedics looked to where the foreman pointed. Half-way up the side of the building the unlucky victim hung only by his harness. The scaffolding was in a near vertical position.

Engine 51 pulled up. Hank jumped out. "What have we got Roy?"

It would be easiest and quickest descending from the roof Hank decided. Johnny being the lightest elected to go down. After connecting his safety harness and triple checking his lines, Marco, Chet, and Mike waited holding Johnny's line, while Roy anchored another and handed it to his partner. Johnny would use this rope to tie off the scaffolding's weak side. They would send down a third line when Johnny had the victim ready to move. Going to the edge of the roof the agile paramedic straightened his body and stepped over the edge.

Carefully Johnny lowered himself down. Roy and Hank supervised his movements. Once along the side of the victim he reached out to take a pulse. He felt the strong vibration under his fingers. "He's got a good pulse."

Next he wasted little time securing the free line to the failed side of the device. After the scaffolding was raised to a more horizontal position he cautiously stepped onto it testing it for stability. With the reinforcing line, Johnny felt more confident the scaffolding would bear his weight and that of the victim. "Slack," he shouted to the men above.

He reached toward the unconscious man with one arm and pulled him up being as careful as he could. He gently laid the unconscious man on the scaffolding. The force exerted on the victim's spine from the rapid drop and stop, and the worker's belt, may have caused a spinal injury. He ran his fingers down the man's spine checking for spinal abnormalities. He moved on when his exam proved negative for an apparent back injury. The victim had a rather colorful lump on his forehead.

Placing a separate safety belt around the man's waist and securing both man and belt with the third line, he disconnected the injured man's harness from the scaffolding and called, "Okay, bring him up easy."

Johnny soon followed. When he reached the top Cap helped him over. "Nice work."

Rampart ordered an IV, and transportation. Jeffery regained consciousness before being placed in the ambulance. Johnny rode with him to the hospital. There were no complications during transport and Johnny's mood improved. Jeffery would spend the night for observation as a precaution but he would be fine.

* * *

The men were finishing with dinner when the pair returned to the station. Since it was his turn to cook, Marco had made enchiladas. Roy watched as Johnny helped himself to a generous portion glad to see he was eating and sporting a smile.

"Great enchiladas Marco," Johnny complimented. "Different recipe?" he asked between bites.

"Finally, someone around here noticed, thanks pal!" Marco beamed. "I tried my Aunt Rosalinda's recipe."

"You're aunts recipe is a hit Marco." Cap leaned back in his chair patting his stomach, "thank her for us."

"So Gage are ya gonna finish telling us about the woman you met?" Chet trying to appear laid back, failed miserably.

"What woman?" Marco wanted to know.

"Nope," Johnny grinned at Chet._ You aren't fooling anyone buddy. You so want to know.  
_

"_Whaat_ woman?" Marco repeated with more emphasis, his interest peeked watching his fellow hose jockey's reaction to being told no.

"Someone Johnny met while camping," Roy explained over his shift-mates verbal jousting.

"Aw come on Gage, it's like it's some big secret. I bet Roy knows." Chet looked to Roy who now sported a rather large grin.

"So? What if he does?" Johnny took in another mouthful of food.

Hank advised his malcontent crewman, "He isn't going to tell, so give it up graciously." Heading toward his office, shaking his head, he was overheard muttering something about twits and children.

"I'd take Cap's advice, Chet." Mike wisely shared.

The engineer was given _a_ _mind your own business, _glare.

Johnny smiled outright at the look of disgust which crossed the king jokester's face.

"Alright Gage so don't tell me." Chet acted insulted, "I don't wanna know anyway."

"Oh, sure ya do, but don't take it to heart ya big baby. Your acting like you're being denied the last jelly dough-nut."

This time around the points scored for Johnny.

Chet didn't have a come back answer.

* * *

After cleaning the kitchen the men settled down to watch TV.

Thirty minutes later the klaxon sounded sending the squad to the house of a possible heart attack victim. The patient went into full arrest and although they worked on the older gentlemen for sometime he didn't make it. Both paramedics moods were somber when they returned.

Not feeling like company Johnny had no interest in watching TV. He did play a game of solitaire, but soon grew bored. He decided he needed some quiet time, and went outside to think. Everyone watched him go.

Fifteen minutes later Chet couldn't help himself, curiosity getting the better of him. "Okay Roy, what gives with Gage? Please tell me you two didn't have a fight."

"No we didn't have a fight. What are you talking about Chet? "

"Gage's been acting weird ever since that MVA the other night, and today his moods have been all over the map. He's your partner so what gives, or don't you know."

Roy snapped, "Well . . . believe it or not Chet, we don't discuss everything, and Johnny is a big boy. He doesn't need me to hold his hand."

"Chill man, I was just askin'. Don't bite my head off." Sulking, shaking his head, he walked away.

Hank's eyes widened as he looked to Mike, who wore the same expression. Both were a little taken aback. It wasn't like Roy to speak so brusquely.

Whatever problem Gage was working through, Hank pondered, affected DeSoto too. He hoped a resolution would happen sooner rather than later. The last thing he wanted to see was tension between his two paramedics. When one, or both, were upset with the other, it was tough living with them. Everyone walked on eggshells, unsure of what to do, or say.

Almost immediately Roy felt apologetic. The outspoken Irishman could be over the top at times, but Roy heard the concern in Chet's voice. Besides he had a point. Johnny was his partner, they worked closely together. Shouldn't he know what was causing his friend's problem?

"Look Chet, I apologize for snapping."

"S'kay, Roy." Chet answered still sulking. Roy heaved a sighed.

* * *

The refreshing night air surrounded Johnny as he made his way toward one of his favorite spots in the station, the hose tower. Dark secluded places always held an attraction for him. When troubled, like now, the darkness focused his mind. He could sort out problems and no one would bother him here. Johnny waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before climbing. Once on top he sat close to the edge his feet dangling over. The lights of Carson twinkled in the distance.

He went over the run they had this morning. He couldn't clear the picture of Ryan out of his head. The young boy sat so quietly even though he must have been in pain. His eyes were sad, listless. For an eleven year old to display such sadness ripped Johnny emotionally. He felt protective of the boy. Call it a gut instinct, Johnny believed the boy was being mistreated.

He understood only to well. He'd been the child with the sad eyes. He bore his painful secret in silence. He'd known many people had their suspicions from school officials, to the staff at the reservation clinic, even the Fosters. How could they not have? The evidence spoke for itself, the bruises, the broken bones, and his sadness.

Growing up in such a place, rather than confront the truth, it was easier to push the problem aside in hopes someone else would take care of it. Mostly though, troubles of this type were generally chalked up to 'spare the rod and spoil the child'.

Johnny held no ill will against any of them. Consumed with their own problems, he fell under the radar. Also, he became a great story teller, able to weave believable tales on how the so called accidents occurred.

The only one he couldn't seem to fool was Shannon, who continuously asked about his bruises. Shannon, the girl as close as a sister, his salvation, and his childhood friend had always been there for him. A warm feeling coursed through his body at the memory of her, instantly followed by an acute sense of loss, even after all these years.

Shannon had been cruelly wrenched from his life. At the age of 18, while driving her car, she swerved to avoid hitting a deer. Losing control her car ran off the road and struck a tree. The impact killed her instantly. He'd been inconsolable after receiving the news. He felt more isolated and alone than ever before, no one cared about the boy who cried in the dark. He almost gave up on life then. He actually contemplated what it would be like if he just ceased to exist. Invisible, no one would miss him.

Everybody had written him off as the half-breed who wouldn't amount to much, like father like son. He started hanging with a wild crowd and getting into trouble. He would stay gone for days, skipping school, basically doing what he wanted. No longer subjecting himself to his father's rages, he slept most nights outside and if he couldn't stay outside because of rough weather, he'd wait until he was sure his father was asleep before entering the house.

A visit from his Aunt Rose, who he hadn't seen more than twice since his mother died, changed his life. She'd just shown up at his front door, two months to the day he'd turned sixteen, and quietly informed him she'd had a strong vision dream. The spirits guided her to him. He was to go with her to LA.

Johnny, who'd been raised in the shadow of his mother's people, didn't question the strangeness of it all. Vision dreams were powerful totems one rarely ignored. His father couldn't have cared less what he did. He neither asked him to stay nor ordered him to leave. The decision was left totally up to him.

Without looking back, at the age of sixteen he escaped the reservation and gone to live with his elderly aunt. A whole new world opened to him and he embraced it like he did most everything, with major enthusiasm. The local firehouse became a lure for him and you could often find him talking with the men from all shifts. He'd hung around so much they'd nicknamed him Johnny. One of the fireman said John reminded him of his skinny cousin, who happened to be named Johnny. The name stuck.

After graduating high school he'd made his desire known . . . he wanted to become a rescue fireman. Those at the station, and his aunt helped him get into the fire academy, the rest history.

He leaned back on his elbows staring into the night. Why would any of this bother him now? After years of careful suppression why would he suddenly be thrust into the ordeal again? His nightmares were real memories not mixed up illusions trying to tell him something. Johnny wasn't easily scared, but the prospect of having to relive those years through dreams, left him sweating.

None of his friends, co-workers, not even Roy, knew of the dismal troubled times in his childhood, and he wanted to keep it that way. The fear his friends would treat him differently, look at him in sympathy or pity, kept him from disclosing the truth.

He purposely forced his thoughts back to the boy; Johnny would talk with Vince tomorrow morning when he got off shift. He wanted to follow up on Ryan, and make known his suspicions. He wasn't certain anything could be done at this point, but he had to try. He didn't want Ryan to suffer the same feelings of isolation , not if he could help it.

* * *

When his shift-mates retired for the evening they found Johnny's boots and turnout pants set up to the side of his bed, but the youngest member wasn't in it. Roy thought about going to find him but decided against it. Johnny had made his decision to keep whatever was happening to himself, and Roy would respect his right to privacy so long as it didn't interfere with his job.

Twenty minutes after lights out the paramedic made his way to his bunk. Hank still awake thought it an amazing feat at how stealthily the man could walk. Hank yawned and closed his eyes.

Troubled by dark dreams Johnny slept fitfully. His friends mumbling disturbed Roy more than once since his bunk was closest to him.

The klaxon sounded. "_Squad 51, Man down, Paradise bar parking lot. 921 West Carson Street, 9-2-1- West Carson, police on scene, time out 02:16"_

The man had been stabbed multiple times. The cops told them there had been an altercation earlier in the day, but before the paramedics arrived both parties involved, split the scene. "Came back to finish it." The cop told them. Both firemen realized this must be part of the canceled run they had earlier in the day.

The paramedics worked to stabilize the knifing victim. Johnny rode with him to Rampart. The victim coded in the ambulance, Johnny shocked him twice. Whisked into surgery once he'd arrived at Rampart, the man had been placed on the critical list. It was almost 03:35 when the weary pair arrived back at the station. Both men beat they climbed into bed, quickly falling asleep. Johnny slept dream free much to Roy's thankfulness.

The next morning when Johnny left work, he drove to the police precinct trying to find Vince with little luck. He left a message for him. Later in the afternoon Vince did call.

"_The Clayton's took their son to the doctor. I understand your concern. I checked to see if any reports were ever filed with the police, from the neighbors, or Mrs. Clayton. Not one, I'm sorry Johnny. Until there's prove . . ."_

* * *

Three long weeks passed with Johnny's born again memories increasing.

The dark dreams invaded Johnny's most vulnerable time. No longer confined to just his sleeping hours, memories intruded into his waking hours as well. While at the station, at night, Johnny settled himself on the day room couch once everyone was asleep. This kept his ramblings ramblings from disturbing anyone. The lack of sleep started to leave its mark upon him. He felt drained during the day, irritable, depressed, and suffered from headaches.

His friends noticed the slow, but sure change from mood swings, to lack of appetite. They watched their shift-mate became withdrawn, and quiet.

His social life began suffering. Johnny started keeping to himself. When off duty he no longer accepted invitations, and actually took his phone off the hook. He'd been invited a number of times to stop by Roy's house, but Johnny had refused offering up vague excuses.

In the locker room come Monday morning Roy tried yet again to get Johnny to come over.

"Johnny if you're not busy tomorrow night, come over to the house for dinner. Joanne . . . the kids, haven't seen much of you lately. They miss you. Jo's making Lasagna." One of Johnny's favorite dishes, Roy hoped it would tempt his friend to drop by.

They were getting ready for role call. Johnny glancing at the clock had only a few minutes to spare having just arrived. After finally falling asleep he'd slept through his alarm clock causing him to drive to the station much later than he'd planned.

Unbuttoning his shirt, "Can't tomorrow night Roy I have plans." Roy gave his partner a penetrating stare before breaking eye contact. Bags under Johnny's eyes told of his troubled nights and if he didn't know any better he'd say Johnny was losing weight.

Walking into the locker room, not privy to what had been asked only hearing Johnny's reply, Chet piped up "You finally get to first base with Carlotta Jones from reception?"

Unwilling to put up with the irritating Irishman this morning, Johnny, forcefully warned, "Chet, this conversation doesn't include ya, so for once take yourself elsewhere."

The out of sort's paramedic turned to finish dressing.

"Gage, really, you could use my advice yah know, if ya wanna get Carlotta out on a date."

"Chet, why would I take your advice, your track record is worse then mine!"

Roy straightened up and tried to gain his crew mates eye. Johnny always managed to get sucked in and ensnared by Chet's goading, but Roy felt this morning Johnny wasn't playing around. If Chet didn't cease, he may find himself up against a wall.

"Oh, funny Gage, here I am trying to be helpful and all I get . . ."

Johnny didn't wait for Chet to finish. "Isn't there something else you can be doing beside annoying me?"

"Yeah, probably Johnny, but where is the fun in that?"

"CHET!" Johnny roared as he opened his locker and a water balloon hit him full in the face.

Roy tensed as he watched dark anger cross his partner's face.

"Don't blame me Gage. I can't help it if the Phantom finds you're an easy mark." The architect of the crime played the innocent, concluding far too late his co-worker wasn't in a good frame of mind this morning.

The irate paramedic took a step toward Chet, as Chet took a step backward, eyes widening. Roy actually put a restraining hand on his partner's arm. He could feel the tension under his hand. For an instant Roy thought Johnny was going to take a swing at Chet. His grip tightened.

Taking a deep breath, wiping water from his face, the recipient of the joke watched water pool across the floor. Shaking off Roy's hand Johnny heatedly complained, "One of these days Chet, something is gonna happen to this easy mark, and then the Phantom will be sorry."

Hearing the words, sent an icy chill rolling down Roy's spine.

"Look I told ya—" Chet began, Johnny cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it," Johnny spat. He wouldn't argue. He wished though, the phantom would pounce less often. "_You just wait Chet." _He grumbled.

Roy gave Chet a look that told the other man to scram. Roy followed.

Johnny overheard Chet whine, "Man somebody is grouchy this morning."

After mopping up the water and changing into his uniform he just made it to the line, still tucking his shirt into his pants as Captain Stanley came into the room.

"Cutting it a little fine, Gage."

"Sorry Cap," Johnny apologized.

Hank hid a smile; Gage would never say anything to him, but he knew what kept him, he'd heard him holler. It must have been a wet gift from the Phantom this morning, since John's hair was still damp. He then took a good look at his youngest member, his concern mounting. John gave the impression of being worn out and the shift just started.

"Understood." Hank told his paramedic. "Since there isn't any news to share from headquarters this morning, today's duty assignments will be, DeSoto apparatus bay and dayroom, Gage, dorm and locker room, Lopez, Stoker, on hoses and Kelly, latrine." Chet rolled his eyes.

"You have something to say Kelly?" Hank's thick eyebrows rose in question, not missing his lineman's reaction, "because if you think I'm being unfair…"

Uh, no, Cap." Chet knew better than to complain. He could wind up with latrine duty for the rest of the month.

"You're sure there, Kelly?" Hank pressed waiting for Chet to clarify his position.

"Yes sir. Latrine duty is fine." Everyone tried keeping straight faces. Johnny tried not to gloat.

"Glad to hear it." Rubbing his hands together he informed his crew, "I have kitchen duty today, and since we had chowder my last go round my wife has graciously volunteered to cook us dinner."

"Far out!" Johnny couldn't help it. Everybody laughed.

"I'm glad it meets with your approval Gage." Hank couldn't suppress his smile. The way John's appetite had declined lately Hank was happy to see Gage interested in food of any kind. "Anybody have any questions?" There were none. "Okay gentlemen lets get busy."

The line broke up.

"John, I would like to see you for a minute in the office."

"Ah . . . sure Cap." Johnny gave Roy a questioning shrug as he followed his captain.

Once inside the office the door remained open, allowing Johnny to breathe a bit easier. Whatever Cap wanted to discuss wasn't of a major deal, or the door would have been shut.

"How are things going with you?"

"Cap?"

"I can't help but notice how tired you look, John, is there anything I need to know about?"

"I'm fine sir, just having a bit of insomnia lately."

This wasn't the first time Gage suffered from this malady. Hank didn't force it. He knew Roy would be the first to let him know if John's lack of sleep interfered with his job performance.

"Anything bothering you. Something you'd care to discuss?"

"No, sir."

"Alright John, if this insomnia doesn't clear itself up, you need to see your doctor understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"My door is always open you know."

"Thanks, Cap."

* * *

An hour and half later the station was called to a response none of them ever wants to receive.

"_Station 51 assist Engine 85, child on roof. A C Middle School . . .  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Four

* * *

Johnny had a very bad feeling… Anytime kids were involved it raised their alert level significantly. A.C Middle, he remembered, the largest and newest of the middle school's consisted of two and a half stories. The building was all brick and large windows.

Stopping the rig and squad on the service road as they'd been advised, they could see the aerial ladder from 85's rig partially deployed and still. They were met by the Capt. of 85's who brought them up to speed.

"We attempted to raise the aerial ladder Hank, but the young man became agitated warning us to stay back. He's allowed only Mrs. Sanchez the vice principle to stay up top with him. He has clear sight to everything around him and there's only one access door. Our options are limited here. How do you want to run with it?"

Hank wore a grim expression; conditions and time weren't on friendly terms this day it seemed. "Have your men set up the life net. Marco, Chet, help 85's men. Mike stay with the engine I may need you up top. Gage, DeSoto lets go meet the Principle."

Hank and his paramedics met Principal Matthew Rodriguez and Officer Sam Sheppard, LAPD.

Rodriguez informed them, "As a school administrator I've seen kids pull some crazy stunts but I've a gut feeling this one's for real." Guiding them to a back stairwell he held the door open for everyone to pass through. "Eileen, my vice principal is with him now. The child attends school here, sixth grade. Our guidance councilor tried talking with him on Friday; his teachers noticed his despondency and informed her. She did have a discussion with him but it yielded little insight as to what troubled the young man. We tried calling his parents on Friday, never reached them. We'd planned on contacting the parents later this morning to schedule a conference. I'm not sure how he managed to gain access, the roof door is normally kept locked."

They were climbing the stairs.

"A parent dropping off his daughter, informed me he spotted a child up on the roof. I came up to investigate and sure enough, there he was just sitting. As soon as he saw me I was told to back off; I didn't want to take any chances, I called you guys in. I'm hoping he'll respond to you. Classes having started, I didn't want the student body alarmed by having them evacuate the building. Instead, we've moved those children on this side of the building to the gymnasium for a student assembly. I got to warn you, it's going to become crazy with the school being inside a residential area. Anytime fire trucks pull up with sirens, parents demand to know what's going on." They followed him up the second flight of stairs.

"Where exactly is the boy?" Hank asked.

"On the main part of the roof, he chose the tallest point. The roof is over our cafeteria. I'd say he's been up here no more than twenty minutes."

"Do you know who the boy is?"

"Ryan Clayton. We've made contact with the mother. A police cruiser was sent to pick her up and bring her here. The father couldn't be reached by telephone, works in construction and is away."

Johnny heart leaped to his throat upon hearing the name. Roy looked over at his partner who'd turned white. "Roy." was all he said.

"I know let's just get up there."

"Do you know this child?" The Principal asked Roy.

"We've met him briefly."

"Then do you know what made him come up here?"

"We're about to find out." Hank stated.

They were at the roof door now and quietly pushed it open. Johnny could see Eileen Sanchez standing about twelve feet away from the upset boy.

"Ryan you don't want to do this son."

"I have too." He tearfully replied.

"Do you want to tell me why?"

"You won't understand, no one understands!"

"Help me to understand Ryan."

Hank estimated the space from roof to ground to be at least thirty five feet, with nothing to impede the boys fall. He also noted as predicted the rigs started to draw a crowd.

Anxious to make contact Johnny said, "Cap let me try to talk to him."

"Take it slowly." Hank advised in a low voice.

Upon seeing the group Ryan stood up, sending everyone's heart racing. The determined paramedic took a step out into the open.

"Take it easy Ryan, relax no ones gonna do anything." Johnny cautioned. "I just wanna talk."

"S-stop, don't come any closer." Ryan stammered. "Why is everybody up here? I want 'em to go!"

Johnny soothed, "Aright, Ryan, I'll ask 'em to leave us alone, but I need my partner and captain to stay," He motioned for Eileen to back up, quietly asking her to go inside with Sheppard and Rodriguez.

Hank turned to Roy, weighing the options, "The kid's scared and edgy. There's no way were gonna get the air ladder up." Raising the HT Hank spoke into it, "_Stoker we need rope on the double." _

"_Engine 51 10-4"_

Johnny kept his voice neutral. "I wouldn't be so nervous if ya stayed still Ryan."

As Eileen passed Roy she inquired, "Have you had any experience with sort of thing?"

"Yes Ma'am we're trained to deal with situations like these." Sounding more confident then actually feeling it Roy internalized what he'd really wanted to say. This wasn't the youngest one they'd ever had a call out on, but he still had difficulty wrapping his head around the fact, at eleven years old, this child sought to end it. If he fell or jumped he could very well get his wish.

Eileen and Matthew followed the officer into the building where they stood anxiously by the door.

"Okay Ryan, my partner and captain will stay back. It's just gonna be you and me." Johnny confirmed.

"You're one of the fireman who came to my house." Ryan's reply more of a statement rather than a question.

"My names Johnny remember?"

"Yep." Johnny's heart still beating hard watching as the boy looked over the edge. "My dad smacked my mom after you left. He told her it was cuz she called you."

Johnny's jaw clenched hearing the pain and confusion in the young voice. A sudden recollection of his father in a rage came to mind. He physically flinched momentarily distracted. Johnny pushed away the unpleasant memory.

"Why ya up here Ryan?"

"I dunno exactly," the confused boy stated, "I thought maybe… Thinkin' on makin' it stop."

What is it ya wanna stop?"

"_The whole thing"_, the young boy exclaimed. "My dads yelling, my moms crying, she doesn't think I hear, but I do." Ryan sniffed wiping his nose with his hand. "It must be my fault cuz I'm always makin' my dad trip about something. I just want it ta stop."

Mike came unto the roof with the rope in hand. Standing more to the side, Johnny could see him out of the corner of his eye. Cap motioned for Mike to return inside but stay close to the door.

Options were swiftly running through the paramedic's head. The roof being wide open to view didn't offer the chance for Roy to come up from behind and grab Ryan. Besides, precariously perched on the edge they way he was proved too dangerous an option. The ladder was already attempted. No one would be able to climb up from below since the distressed boy could see everyone and everything from his vantage point. One option remained viable, talk the schoolboy down.

At the sound of movement Ryan sharply brought up his head.

"Easy." Johnny cautioned.

Roy watched in apprehensive silence. A surprise grab was out of the question unless Ryan could be totally distracted which seemed unlikely. The boy sat on the edge. _Keep him talking junior. _His partner needed to convince Ryan there was hope, that things weren't as bad as they seemed right now. He couldn't help think of his own son Christopher. He felt an infinite sadness for Ryan who thought he had no other alternative.

In earnest Johnny asked. "Ryan what is it you want your dad to stop doing?"

Agitated and still standing Ryan took a baby step back, again looking over the edge.

Swallowing hard, sweat began beading on the stressed paramedic's face a tension headache blossomed. He had an idea but he needed to distract Ryan long enough to be able to play it out. He motioned Cap discreetly, he wanted the rope.

Wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, Ryan sullenly answered, "Nuthin_'._ Just forget it."

"Okay." Johnny appeased, "We'll talk about something else."

Still standing Ryan hadn't moved.

"While we talk would ya do something for me?" Johnny asked, playing a part. "I ain't as brave as you. Move a little away from the edge? It will help me feel less nervous. Heights aren't my thing ya know? I can't look down without my stomach wanting to come right back up. I'd really like to put some rope around me." This statement distracted the boy for the moment; he actually moved a little away from the edge in surprise.

"You rescue people and you're afraid of heights? No way." Plainly, Ryan wore the look of a person unsure whether to believe his story or not.

_That' a boy, junior. _Roy approved. Telling Ryan he was scared and looking the part had the boy engaged and interested. For the moment, intent on Johnny's plight he moved away from the ledge. The truth though, when handling ropes, rigging and climbing, none did it with more ease or expertise then Johnny. Heights didn't faze him, so on most dangerous rescues the man always was first in line, to climb or repel.

"Sure," he told the astonished boy, "I always have a rope around me for safety during rescue's involving height."

Intrigued the boy asked, "If you're scared of heights then how come you're talkin ta me?"

Johnny didn't miss a beat. "It's my job and 'sides how else am I gonna get over my fear?"

As quick as that the boy dismissed Johnny's explanation, "Ah man that's lame! Don't try and con me. Ya think I'm stupid or something? Ryan's voice rising with each syllable, "You don't get it do ya? I come down I'll be sent home. My dad will really be mad after he finds out what happened! He'll blame it on my mom and then she'll be in trouble. If I don't come home she won't hafta worry, she can leave."

"Ryan, this isn't like some cartoon where you get up again. You do this, it's permanent," Johnny's head pounded. "What if you could live with another family for awhile?"

Ryan relaxed enough for Johnny to take a breath. He hadn't realized he'd been holding it.

"I wish I could live with my cousins, cuz my aunt, she's cool."

"Maybe something can be worked out. Whuddaya think?"

Ryan shook his head. "Nobody's gonna listen I'm just a kid."

"I'm listening Ryan," Johnny said softly watching the young boys legs inch back toward the ledge.

Hank quietly told Roy. "We have to get a rope around John, while we have this window of opportunity."

Hank cautiously called, "Son?" making a slow approach inching forward his hands moving in a calming motion he spoke kindly to the boy. "I'm Captain Hank Stanley, this man's…" he hesitated a moment before he said, "boss. He's not trying to con you; He'd really feel less nervous and I'd worry less, if you let my man use the safety rope. You want him to be safe right?"

Ryan gave Hank a long searching glance. "The old guy gonna hassle ya later if you don't use it?" troubled eyes switching to Johnny.

"Cap's a real stickler for safety and only doing his job. If ya don't want me to..." he shrugged. Johnny had to hand it to Cap for his quick thinking.

With a disgusted glance directed at Hank, Ryan agreed. "Kay, you can use it if it will make _him_ feel better." Ryan announced. "You're cool for a grownup. I don't want the geezer to yell cuz it doesn't feel good, yah know?"

Hank eyebrows rose at being called a geezer.

If the situation weren't so dire, Johnny would have laughed at the look on Caps face. Ryan may sometimes talk and act well beyond his years, but Johnny had to remember he was dealing with a young, hurting, conflicted boy. He wanted desperately to be able to tell Ryan it would be okay, his father would no longer be allowed anywhere near them, but the reality for Ryan told a different story.

Handing Johnny the rope Caps words reached him quietly. "You're doing everything right. Keep it up."

Talking with Ryan the entire time the expert climber tied himself in. He didn't need to see what his partner was doing, he already knew, the trust they shared long established and proved.

Roy picked up the end and securely wrapped the rope around his own harness making sure Johnny had just enough lead rope in case he needed it. The senior man was uneasy with this set up. Under normal conditions Johnny would control his own rate of descent, with the help of the anchor. If Johnny was forced to make a sudden grab for the boy he'd have no control. Dependent on the one line, and it being a windy morning, had Roy fretting. Hopefully Johnny's power of persuasion would have Ryan peacefully coming away from the edge. Roy sighed, as tenuous as this state of affair seemed, it proved to be better than nothing at all. Ryan sat in the driver's seat with his foot on the gas pedal.

"Do ya mind if I sit down? I'm kinda tired." Johnny asked.

Roy watched as Johnny moved his neck from side to side to release tension. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Taking a good look, Roy could see the fatigue lines pronounced on his face and wondered just how much playacting went into his performance.

"You can sit if you wanna." Ryan informed him, "but not too close to me."

"Thanks." He smiled to show his appreciation and squatted down in place every muscle in his body alive and ready to spring into action at a moments notice.

_Keep it but John, he's beginning to trust you._ Hank watched and admired the way his man could relate to the youngster.

Trying to get Ryan to relax further he inquired, "You like baseball?"

"Who doesn't? Baseball is cool."

"Yeah."

"I like to go to the games, play catch, only..."

"Only?" Johnny prompted after hearing the sad tone return.

Ryan voice became flat as he answered, "Dad doesn't play with me. If I ask, he gets angry. He says playing catch is a waste of time."

Moving the conversation back to the main reason they'd been called to this roof, Johnny asked, "What is it you want?"

"For somebody to understand."

Unexpectedly, Johnny's ugly past emerged, holding the unprepared paramedic in thrall. He felt his insides quivering. In flashes he heard the sound of the belt making contact with his body, an enraged face and voice telling him he'd learn respect, his pleas for it to stop, going unanswered. The memories threatened to render him useless. What's more, the terrible sense he could do nothing to prevent it caused his headache to ruthlessly pulse, making him wince and feel queasy. He tried to block the horrid pictures to no avail.

Unsure what was happening but seeing an aggrieved expression growing more pronounced on his friends face had Roy calling sharply, "Johnny what's wrong?"

The spell broken, breathing hard, Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm fine. I'm okay." He waved off his captain, who started toward him. Taking a deep breath, he resharpened his focus.

"What'dya mean?" He heard the eleven year old say.

For a second the beset paramedic forgot the question he'd asked. "You can't stay up here forever."

Sniffling, "I know it'll be over soon." Johnny's stomach tightened. Ryan said those frightening words with little emotion.

51's paramedic needed some way to get through. "What will it take to get you off this ledge safely?"

"Nuthin', cause it don't matter no more."

"Ryan, it matters to more people than ya think. To me, your friends, your mother… how do ya think she's gonna feel if you jump?" The words were said gently, Johnny not wanting to appear confrontational.

Shrugging and looking lost, "I don't know."

"I know Ryan, she'll blame herself."

The upset youngster exclaimed, "She worries all the time about me! Dad's grouchy, and always drinking. He's at us, for nuthin' he's a drag. My mom tries to stay out of his way but nuthin' she does is good enough for him. She stay's cuz of me. If I'm not around maybe she could leave. Why does he gotta yell all the time? I just want a normal dad." Ryan stopped talking and played with his cast a visual reminder his family needed help.

Not once had Ryan stated his father hit him. Johnny needed to confirm his suspicions. "Does you're dad hit you Ryan?"

The traumatized boy hung his head and said nothing.

Johnny understood the feeling of total out of control helplessness abuse creates; thinking you're the only one going through it, ever hopeful it will stop until the next time the drinking starts, and the belt or hand strikes.

"We can get help for you and your mom Ryan, even your dad. It doesn't have to be like this."

Ryan's eyes full of sorrow, widened in forlorn hope. Johnny thought he'd finally broken through. "Why don't you come away from the ledge?"

Johnny could see the boy wanted to believe him, his resolve for being on the roof weakening. "Ryan what do ya say?"

Before he answered a black and white pulled to a stop diverting their attention. Behind the cruiser a media truck parked. Johnny leaned closer to the boy; Ryan's mother got out of the patrol car and looked up.

"No!" She screamed. "Ryan what are you doing?" The situation went from bad to worse in a heartbeat.

"Look at me Ryan! Not at your mother." Johnny demanded.

Suddenly Ryan stiffened and jumped to his feet sending Johnny into adrenaline overload, "Whatcha gone and done?" he yelled. Seeing the net for the first time shouted angrily, "Go away! Then at Johnny, "I thought you were gonna be different you tricked me! No one understands!

In a last ditch effort Johnny impulsively reached out, oblivious to everyone but the boy. "No! I understand ..." Johnny's heart pounding so hard it felt like it was beating outside of his chest as he struggled with the words, "I -I've been were you are. God, I know Ryan, I know cuz, it happened to me... I can help you!"

Ryan no longer listened.

Hank and Roy looked at one another stunned, unsure of what they'd just heard. Did they just hear Johnny say he'd been abused?

Adrenaline can alter how you perceive time. Sometimes it can appear as if it moves at the speed of light, at others times appearing as if it were trapped inside in a bubble slowly floating about, or not moving at all. To the black-haired paramedic, time stood still, the air around him charged with electricity, every nerve ending in his body tingling. His mind closed off every distraction fine tuning it to the boy and what he'd do.

Ryan gazed at the distressed paramedic, his eyes displaying an eerie vacancy. Without another word and as nimble as the young can be, Ryan took a small step down from the ledge and lunged in the opposite direction intending to jump just outside the net's safety zone. His mother's hysterical screams could be heard from down below joined with alarmed shouts from the men handling the net and the crowd of onlookers.

"Ryan!" Johnny shouted.

His shift-mates, the crew of 85's, the crowd of bystanders, the media who had camera's rolling, and Ryan's mother on the ground watched in fascinated horror, as the fireman made a leap for the boy and both came flying off the ledge.

As Ryan jumped, the adrenaline pumped paramedic barely managed to seize the wildly struggling child around the waist, his long legs immediately encircling the boy's lower body locking him in an iron grip while his arms hugged and protected the thin body. His helmet flew from his head and he lost his grip on the rope. Much to close to the edge the momentum carried them over. As the rope swung in a wide arc from the energy of the lunge, Johnny steeled himself for what would come. They were going to strike the building, and strike it hard.

Determined to break contact Ryan refused to stay still. "Lemme go!" he screamed.

Johnny struggle to maintain control. The rope twisted, turning his body. Ryan began to slip. The line pulled tight and they were forcefully brought up against the side of the building. He couldn't do a thing to shield his body, not with Ryan in his arms. He had no control over were they landed. He barely had time to register his legs crashing through glass, feeling stinging pain, followed instantly by his back, while his head met the solid surface of the building. Sun bursts danced before his eyes. He made a desperate effort to retain his grip as the jarring impact, tore both breath and strength from him. The boy slid from his arms. Horrified he watched Ryan fall as consciousness ebbed away.

Mike and Samuel had run from just inside the doorway when they saw Ryan stand and start yelling. Hank and Roy held unto what was virtually Johnny's life line. When Johnny lunged for the boy they planted their feet as Mike and Samuel grabbed the slack in the rope which stopped the free fall. The sound of shattering glass, and a loud thwack, as Johnny's body contacted the surface of the building had many on the ground wincing. The rescuer went limp. Ryan fell. It was over in seconds.

Ryan's mother collapsed screaming hysterically.

Chet was down next to her trying to offer comfort. "He's okay ma'am you're boy's gonna be okay."

Ryan by a very narrow margin landed into the net. The shaken men holding the net administered to the still struggling boy. Everyone's attention fixed on Johnny. Marco ran for the equipment off the squad. They were going to need it.

All four men still held onto the rope. "Go Roy." Hank ordered. They were to far back to see what happened. Roy disconnected from the rope quickly, How had it gone south so fast? Running to the edge he peered over.

Ryan lay in the net and was being looked after. Roy's mouth went dry as he observed his partner's motionless body. "Johnny!" He yelled. His partner's words from earlier in the morning suddenly replayed in his mind. _One of these days Chet, something is gonna happen to this easy mark... _Roy unsteadily called, "He's out Cap. We'll need to lower him down!"

"Engine 51 we are going to lower Gage to you." An ambulance was dispatched.

Carefully Johnny was lowered. An examination revealed multiple tiny lacerations on both legs and back from where he'd impacted the window. They were bits and pieces of glass embedded in the wounds but nothing terribly deep. His pupil response was unequal, he had a concussion. After taking vitals and relaying the information to Rampart an IV was established, a c-collar secured, and the out cold paramedic was gently laid on a stretcher. His worried shift-mates watched as Johnny moaned, opened his eyes, stated his head hurt and went out again. He was loaded into the ambulance.

A shaking hand on Roy's arm delayed him from following. He stared into the anguished eyes of Ryan's mother. "I'm so sorry this happened."

Roy worried and upset replied impersonally, "Me too Ma'am. You've got a second chance to help your boy, find the courage." She took a visible step back.

Hank standing close by monitoring the situation overheard Roy's cold reply. "DeSoto!" he called sharply. Roy giving his captain a fleeting glance stepped into the ambulance.

Ryan refused to speak to anyone, especially his badly frightened mother now seated in the front of the ambulance.

After checking the drip on Johnny's IV Roy began another set of vitals. He kept hearing Johnny's words repeatedly, "_I've been were you are. I understand because it happened to me_."

"C'mon, junior wake up."

As he lay quietly on the other stretcher Ryan tried to be invisible. He didn't like the siren it was loud. Disheartened the eleven year old was confused. He should have jumped right away, it would be all over now, but he'd been such a chicken. Then the firemen started talking to him and he and he didn't know what to do. He watched as the one called Roy took care of his friend. He looked really worried.

Ryan broke his silence, "I didn't mean for him to get hurt mister. Is he gonna be okay?"

As Roy switched his gaze to the sad eyed young boy, he inhaled sharply. The look mirrored one he'd seen in Johnny's on rare occasion.

Because of Ryan, Johnny lay injured, but he couldn't blame the boy. Ryan was a victim too. Pulling his thoughts together he said, "He'll be okay." He half smiled, "the doctors at Rampart will take good care of him. Don't worry."

"When he's better will ya tell him I'm sorry?"

"Sure, I'll tell him."

* * *

Once at Rampart, Dixie instructed Roy to put Johnny in treatment room two. Ryan went into four. A doctor from pediatrics called in by Dr Bracket, along with a child psychologist was waiting to examine the boy. Child protection services had been contacted. Ryan's mother accompanied her son as far as the treatment room door. Dixie halted her from entering and directed her to the waiting room. Officer Sheppard having followed the ambulance escorted the upset woman to ask some questions. After speaking with Ryan's doctors, who'd told him they would be keeping Ryan for psychological evaluation, Roy entered exam room two.

Quietly he hovered out of the way and watched Dr. Kelly Brackett exam his partner.

"Johnny, its Doctor Brackett." Brackett leaned over the unconscious man checking his pupils. "He has a sizable lump and contusion on the back of his head." Briefly looking up he questioned, "Roy did he vomit at all?"

"No," the subdued paramedic answered, "Other than briefly coming around telling me his head hurt, he's been unresponsive."

"Johnny I need you to open you're eyes." Brackett spoke firmly again. The dark haired paramedic didn't flinch. Brackett frowned down at his inert patient. "He's really out of it," He said more to himself then to the worried medic, when he rubbed hard on Johnny's sternum inducing a feeble moan.

Joe Early entered the room asking "What do we have Kel?" faltering a step he realized who lay upon the gurney. Masking his emotions he continued to the unconscious paramedic's bedside. "What happened?"

The door opened wide to allow the portable x-ray unit to pass through.

"I want a complete skull and spine series Dan. He has glass embedded in his legs and upper back, get pictures of those areas." Brackett informed the x-ray tech. "I need them developed right away."

He filled Joe in on Johnny's condition. Dr. Early did his own cursory check of the unconscious man.

"Why hasn't he come around yet?" Roy asked apprehensively moving toward the door to give the x-ray tech room to work.

The kindly older doctor looked at the anxious medic. "I'll admit it's a bit of a mystery Roy. All indicators suggest he should have come around. His pressure is holding steady, there's been no difficulty breathing, and he hasn't seized or vomited which are all good signs as you know. We'll have more information once I've seen his x-rays. There's nothing you can do for him now. Go grab some coffee, fill your crew mates in if they've arrived. I'll let you know as soon as I have something definite."

Roy knew when he was being kicked out.

Dixie came into the room. Her troubled eyes softened as she looked toward Johnny. "Kel, a representative from the Department of Health and Welfare is on the phone."

"Dix let 'em know I'll call them back presently." Brackett's attention once again focused on his down for the count paramedic.

"Okay my friend lets find out what's going on in that head of yours and remove this glass."


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Five

* * *

Absently sipping at his coffee even though the liquid in his mug no longer needed such careful manipulation, Roy sat staring into space heavily immersed in thought. A young couple joined him in the waiting room carrying an infant. The fussy infant pulled Roy from his musings. The mother gave Roy an apologetic look as she tried soothing her baby. His shift-mates trudged into the room.

"How's Johnny?" The Irishman was first to speak. Roy didn't miss Chet's use of Johnny's first name. The man was worried.

"No news. Doctor Brackett ordered a series of x-rays. As far as I know he still hasn't regained consciousness." Taking another sip from the mug his lips curled in distaste. The paramedic placed the unappealing drink on a side table. He'd been so engrossed in his thoughts he hadn't realized it had turned cold.

"It isn't normal his being out this long." Mike stated to no in particular. Working closely around the two paramedics, the engineer came to understand a little something about head injuries.

"I'm confused about this too Mike." Roy's answer verifying Mike's suspicions. "He didn't stir at all in the ambulance, though Brackett did get him to respond to pain stimuli."

Hank nervous now hearing the uncertainty in his paramedic, "What are you not saying, Roy." It wasn't like his man to hedge around the truth. "John _is_ going to be fine _right_?"

"As far as I know Cap I'd say Johnny suffered a mild concussion."

"If it's a concussion then why isn't he awake? I don't remember Johnny ever being out his long." Marco expressed what everyone was thinking.

"I really dunno." Roy clarified, "Head injuries can be unpredictable Marco."

Conversation ceased no one in a particularly chatty mood.

Roy nervously chewed his nails. Disjointed thoughts floated randomly around. _I should have been the one to talking to the boy, I'm the senior paramedic. If I had you wouldn't be here… __We've been in this room far too many times junior… I dislike this room, the stark cold color of it. You saved Ryan's life today…_ _Now I understand your reluctance to discuss your past, and why you are so protective of the boy. Damn, what is taking so long?_

Mike sat staring at the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him. He shifted in his seat considering what he'd overheard Johnny tell the boy a short while ago. Mike suspected Johnny's past wasn't pleasant, aware his friend grew up on the reservation. Though not privy to the particulars, Mike could sense an underlying nervousness in Johnny whenever anyone's childhood came up in conversation. John would quickly excuse himself and find someplace else to be. Mike understood Johnny's unwillingness to share his past. Why dredge up painful memories one could do nothing about? Didn't everyone own a few bad memories in their life? Besides, as far as he was concerned, it wasn't anyone's business but John's. Mike admired his friend's resiliency. Johnny was a survivor in more than the obvious ways.

Chet counted thirty one steps, from the waiting room's first row of chairs, to the door of exam room two. Restless, his body refusing to stay still, he resorted to walking up and down the hallway. His actions were so reminiscent of Johnny when edgy, no one complained about his constant motion. _Johnny, ya little twerp,_ the tense lineman thought, _you'd better be okay. Only you could go and make a concussion into a big deal! I hope you come around soon cuz the phantom is beginning to worry about his pigeon._ The Phantom war had been going on between them since the day the station opened. He felt bad about the joke he'd played this morning. He'd thought Johnny would clock him but good and he'd have deserved it. They had an understanding, the two of them. Never prank when the other was down. His steps slowed until he stopped. Goosebumps worked their way up his legs, spread to his arms, and down his back as he recalled what Gage said to him this morning. _"One of these days… the Phantom will be sorry." _The superstitious part of Chet came roaring to life. _I jinxed him! _He thought appalled._ I swear Johnny; the Phantom will take an extended vacation if ya just wake up soon and be okay. _The nervous man resumed his pacing, "29, 30, and 31" Turn, start again. "One, two…"

The picture of Johnny plunging from the roof with Ryan cradled to him, kept Marco's mind occupied. His friend wound up in some of the more dangerous situations, because he volunteered before any of the others could. He'd nearly had a heart attack watching from below. Even though his friend had been tethered by a rope, it was still frightening to say the least. He'd already sent up silent prayers for his friends healing and waited along with everyone else for Dr. Brackett, but one more prayer couldn't hurt…

Station 51's commander watched Roy nervously nibble, Mike stare, Chet pace, and Marco pray. The anxiety emanating from each of his men coalesced into a physical presence in the room. Johnny was important to all of them. Hank mentally shook himself. Insuring the safety of his men always top priority for him, when an accident occurred he felt them keenly, and wore the cloak of responsibility, tightly.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Dr. Brackett found all of Johnny's shift-mates present in the waiting room, sitting, slouching, standing, or in Chet's case pacing, each face filled with apprehension. These men were like brothers to one another. Brackett understood Johnny considered all these men his family. He approached, hands buried in the pockets of his white lab coat, head down.

Roy took a deep breath, the Doc's distinctive characteristics were well known to him, the slump of his shoulders, the tightly controlled features, the way he had his hands shoved deep into his pockets told him, Brackett was about to impart cautionary news. In trepidation Roy stood. "Doc, Johnny?" The rest of the guys gathered around in anticipation.

"The x-rays are negative for skull fracture." Bracket disclosed rubbing the index finger of his left hand. Combined sighs of relief were heard but didn't last long with his next words. "Johnny hasn't regained consciousness. Quite frankly I'm at a loss to explain his slow return to consciousness. He does have a mild concussion that we know. The x-rays did reveal glass embedded in his legs, which has been removed. He needed a couple of stitches for a minor laceration to his back. We've started him on a round of antibiotics, as a precautionary measure to stave off infection. Everything else appears normal. If he doesn't wake within the next hour or so, I will order a CT Roy. You hold Johnny's medical power of attorney. I'll need you to sign his form. With a bit of luck we won't need it." Seeing the dejected looks on the faces before him Brackett concluded, "I'm sorry gentlemen. I wish I relayed better news."

"Can we sit with him?" Roy asked, knowing he wouldn't leave the hospital until duty called him away.

"Once we have him admitted. He's being sent to the second floor. I'll send someone to get you two at a time. Let's just hope our young friend is awake by then." He turned and left.

The HT in Hanks hand went off, _"Station 51 what is your status?"_

LA Engine 51 is available at Rampart General; Squad 51 is 10-8 at Rampart until replacement paramedic arrives."

"10-4 51"

"I put a call into headquarters Roy," Hank told him, "Dwyer will be here within the hour. I tried to find a replacement for you but…"

"I understand Cap. It will take Tom a bit to get here." Optimistically he added, "Hopefully Johnny will be awake by then."

"Excuse me gentlemen. I'm looking for Captain Hank Stanley?"

"That would be me." Hank stated, sizing up the man as a reporter.

"My name is Robert Hansen I'm a reporter for LA County. I'd like to ask you a few questions, regarding the rescue your station was involved in earlier this morning."

"Mr. Hansen, I'm sure you're aware, everything goes through our departments spokesmen. Please feel free to contact him."

"I understand one of your men was injured while aiding in this rescue, can you at least confirm?"

"No comment."

The tones sounded loudly in the room from Hanks HT.

"_Engine 51, Squad 36 in place of Squad 51; respond to MVA with injuries and car fire, Harbor Ridge Lane, and S. Vermont Avenue. Harbor Ridge Lane and South Vermont Ave. Time out 11:08_

"Keep us informed Roy." Hank told him keeping his voice low, not wanting to leave but having no choice.

After they'd gone Roy headed for the phone in the Doctor's Lounge, before the reporter got any ideas of trying to glean information from him. He phoned the one person who could always calm his shaky nerves. "Hi Jo…I know its way too early for me to call, no… no, it's not me... its Johnny... I just didn't want you to catch it on the news first."

Dixie came to find him ten minutes later. He'd only just hung up with Joanne.

"Dix, do you know anything about a reporter hanging around?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Hansen. He tried getting information about Johnny. When he realized I wasn't going to budge and tell him anything, he took my advice and went to contact your department spokesmen."Why?" Dixie questioned. "He wasn't a problem was he?"

"No, I just didn't want him to try and sneak any pictures; you know how single-minded reporters can be."

She shook her head in agreement. "How are you holding up?" Brown eyes full of empathy searched his face as they walked toward the elevator.

"I'm fine Dixie."

"Roy DeSoto you're not fooling anyone, especially this queen of observation."

"Never could fool you."

"What's bothering you, other than the obvious?"

"I can't help but feel if had been the one to talk with the boy then Johnny…"

"Roy you both know the risks of the job. You're partner isn't known for doing things by half. Blaming yourself won't accomplish a thing."

"Gee, when you put it like that who can argue?"

"Glad you see my point." She gave Roy a weak smile. "Johnny sure knows how to grab everyone's attention."

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Two nurses moved further back to make room for them. "The thing of it Dixie," Roy enlightened the nurse as she silently pressed the elevator button to the second floor, "he doesn't do it on purpose. Johnny hates attention." The doors closed.

For the short ride to the second floor neither spoke. The elevator dinged as the door opened and both stepped out. "How is the Clayton boy?" Roy asked as they continued their walk toward Johnny's room.

Dixie's voice changed becoming chagrined. "Compared to what could have happened he suffered only minor bruises. The young boy's extremely fortunate. When he's older I'd like to be the one to remind him of the significance of what happened here today." She stopped walking and stood outside a closed door. She pushed it open.

As Roy stepped into Johnny's room a déjà vu moment hit him straight on nearly knocking him over. He flashed back to the time his partner had contracted a highly contagious virus and almost died. "Johnny," Roy told him, coming to the side of his hospital bed, "You sure make life interesting for the rest of us. Nothing is ever cut and dry with you."

Gazing at the silent man on the bed, "Come on handsome everybody is waiting on you." Giving Roy's shoulder a reassuring pat, Dixie left the room.

The low-spirited paramedic pulled up a chair quietly speaking, "Every time I see you like this Johnny, I feel I've somehow failed you."

* * *

Dwyer arrived before the hour was up, and the sandy-haired paramedic informed LA they were available. After getting the story on what happened to his station-mate, Tom informed Roy, "I'll be in the waiting room, napping."

The fates were smiling on the sleep disadvantaged paramedic because the HT remained blessedly silent.

Back in the room Roy kept glancing at his watch noting the passage of time with frustration. As he sat, his mind analyzed what happened on the run. He shut his eyes and remembered the conditions. As his partner struggled with Ryan, they free fell at least fifteen feet. By a lucky quirk of fate, Johnny's line had twisted being taken by a strong gust of wind. Otherwise, Johnny would have slammed into the window front first, with Ryan being forced through the window instead of falling into the net. The outcome for both would have been much more serious. As for Johnny's admission to the boy? Roy would say nothing unless his friend brought up the subject. Johnny's past was his business, and his friend would not tolerate interference from anyone, including him.

A nurse came in to check Johnny's vitals and left. Glancing at his watch another twenty minutes had passed. He willed his body to relax, actually closing his eyes. Johnny's cough a few minutes later had him edgily standing at the side of the bed.

Roy watched his friend's eyes slowly open. He blinked a couple of times before focusing.

The first thing the muzzy man perceived, was a drum solo beating incessantly in his head. The second thing he identified, a worried pair of blue eyes peering down at him. A moment later he moaned again and not from pain, "I'm at Rampart Roy?"

Roy smiled as tension left his body. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the power's that be. "Yeah, you suffered a concussion. You've been out for awhile." Reaching over he pressed the call button dangling from the bed-rail. When the nurse appeared Roy asked her to page Doctor Brackett.

"Could ya tell whoever is playing the drums in my head to take an extended intermission?" Suddenly Johnny recalled what happened, and nearly came off the bed. "Ryan! I couldn't hold him Roy!" Alarm marked his face.

Roy fearful Johnny would yank out his IV line, he fought to hold the struggling man still. "Johnny lay back, listen to me! The boy alive. Are you listening? Believe me junior you took the worst of it."

Trusting his partner, Johnny stilled, his breathing slowed as Roy's words sank in.

"Ryan wanted me to relay a message to you," checking to be sure Johnny's IV line was still intact, "He's sorry you were hurt."

Johnny relaxed knowing Ryan was okay physically. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of new pain his abrupt movement caused.

Roy prodded. "C'mon Johnny ya can't go to sleep until Brackett sees you."

"Unfortunately I happen to be Ramparts leading authority on the subject Roy." His unhappy partner shared, "Cap's not gonna be thrilled with the new round of paperwork."

"You're lucky it's just a concussion."

"I wouldn't say I'm lucky," the hurting paramedic stated, "cuz, I'm lying here with a _killer_ headache." Roy frowned, not appreciating his partner's poor choice of words.

Dr. Brackett and Dixie came into the room, Dixie going to the paramedic's side and gently taking his wrist, "Welcome back handsome. You took quite a long nap."

Johnny told her rather mischievously, "I needed my beauty sleep."

Dixie smiled at the mischievous grin he gave her. "Better watch it tiger, deprive you of sleep and _poof_, no more good looks." She winked at him, "Then what would Rampart's nurses do?"

Brackett kept a smile hidden as he listened to the exchange of words, aware of Dixie's fondness for this particular pair of paramedics. He began checking Johnny's pupils with his pen light, causing the man on the bed to flinch from the brightness. "Do you remember what happened?" Brackett asked all business now.

"Uh, the boy jumped… I made a grab for him and both of us wound up going over. I think I hit the building pretty hard. Don't remember anything else until now."

"Your head hit the building pretty hard, junior, the rest of you found a window."

"Ryan is going to be fine thanks to you." Brackett updated him.

He proceeded to check Johnny's reflexes.

Dixie called out the vitals, "Pulse, respiration's are near normal, BP slightly elevated."

"Do you have any nausea or dizziness?" The doctor inquired.

"Both Doc, but it's not bad if I keep my eyes closed and lay still." Brackett smiled at Johnny's not so subtle request.

"Another question then I'll leave you to get some rest." Bracket's arms crossed over his chest as he spoke, eying his patient intently, "Do you know who and where you are?"

The concussed paramedic informed the waiting doctor. "Doc are you sure you're not the one confused? Cuz, that's two questions."

The good doctor gave him the stern Brackett glare, with the raised eyebrows for effect.

"Fine," Johnny mumbled. "Since my name isn't handsome, tiger, or junior and ah, Roy called me Johnny... well... guess Johnny would be my name, but to put you all at ease so ya don't think I'm havin' difficulties, my name is John Roderick Gage. I'm at the place I never want to stay in, but can't seem to stay out of... Rampart General..."

Everyone broke out into smiles. "I can order up something if you think you'll need it Johnny." Brackett told him, while writing orders on his chart.

"S'kay," Johnny mumbled closing his eyes, "I can sleep without it." Showing the concerned doctor it wouldn't be needed, at least not yet.

Brackett motioned for them to step into the hall. "His cognitive function is definitely intact along with the Gage humor. I'd say you're partner is going to be fine Roy. Keep the neuro check to the normal two hours but monitor his blood pressure every hour. Our friend was out for an extended period, and I'm not sure why.

Dixie flashed a playful look, "Who else would make sure we stay on our game?"

"Now why didn't I think of that," Brackett gave his head nurse a knowing glance and teased, "You may be unto something there nurse, McCall."

The HT sounded, _"Squad 51 Man Down…."_

The hospital income system sounded, "_Dr. Brackett you're wanted in Emergency, Dr. Brackett…"_

"Roy acknowledged the call. "Dixie can you ring the station and let everyone know how Johnny's doing? When he wakes up tell him I'll stop by when I can."

"Sure Roy." Dixie promised, wearing a disturbed frown.

"Is something the matter Dix?"

"I'm not sure Kel, did Roy seem anxious to you?"

"Dix?" The head of the ER stated, heading toward the elevator. "The day Roy DeSoto stops being anxious for his junior partner is the day I'll stop being a doctor."

* * *

He'd passed every one of his neurological checks overnight so Johnny had been released from Rampart the next morning under strict orders to rest. Resting sounded like a very good idea. His head throbbed fiercely and since he'd been awakened every two hours, sleeping was nearly impossible. Roy volunteered to drive Johnny home when he'd gotten off shift.

"Are you sure you won't stay at our place, Junior?"

"I'm sure." Johnny sighed, "If Bracket thought I'd needed watching he'd have told you. I'll be fine. Chillaxin is the only thing I'm gonna be doing today."

His worried partner nodded, "Okay but if you need anything…"

"Yeah I know Roy... The telephone won't be far from my reach." Not wanting to appear unappreciative Johnny gave him his famous grin. "Thanks."

After Roy left, Johnny changed into shorts and t-shirt, poured a tall glass of milk, popped three aspirin and sifted through two days worth of mail. Finding nothing exciting he turned on the radio and promptly fell asleep to Simon and Garfunkel's, Bridge Over Troubled Water.

* * *

"_What did I tell you? You were supposed to apologize to Bill Coleman" His father demanded._

_I- I couldn't find him, Pop." _

"_Don't lie to me boy, I told you were to find him."_

"_He wasn't there, I looked for him in other places too but nobody saw him today."_

"_Try harder next time." His thin arm was cruelly twisted. Johnny yelped in pain._

_

* * *

_

Bolting upright from his prone position, Johnny grabbed his head as the painful throbbing threatened to upend his stomach. Sweat ran down his face, his breathing ragged. The shaken man sat back and brought his knees to his chest, absently rubbing his arm. He didn't even feel the pressure he exerted on his back wound. He remained in this position until his fear subsided...

* * *

He'd been on medical leave for eight days. Two of those nights Johnny remained sleepless. His headache had never really gone away, it hovered in the background a dull ache between his eyes. Since it was not of a debilitating nature he could live with it. On the last day before reporting to Brackett for medical clearance, and the start of a new shift, Roy brought the kids over. Seeing them lifted his melancholy mood.

"Uncle Johnny!" Jennifer DeSoto cried as she hugged him tight, "I missed you! Are you all better?" Little hands examined his head as she spoke.

"Yep, cause a beautiful ray of sunshine walked in my door." Johnny smiled brightly at his favorite girl.

"_Ooh,_ Uncle Johnny." Jenny cooed prettily, making her father's eyes roll.

"Partner you're amazing, you even charm the little ones."

"What a neat trick Uncle Johnny!" Christopher DeSoto excitedly said. "Will ya teach it to _me_?" Johnny turned bright red.

* * *

He was released for work with the stipulation he wasn't to repel or climb for another two weeks. It felt good to be back at work. Johnny slipped easily into the steadiness of routine, and for once the Phantom was absent.

On his third shift rotation back he'd woken with a major headache. It felt as if someone had branded him with a cattle prod. He took four aspirin and it subsided to the familiar dull background ache behind his eyes. That night as they got ready to retire for the evening his headache returned.

"Junior you have a headache?" Roy asked, watching as his friend squinted at the overhead light, rubbing at his eyes.

"Yeah, but I took some aspirin, should help."

"How long have you been having 'em?"

"It's a headache Roy."

"Maybe you should tell Brackett …"

"Roy, I don't think I need tell Brackett I have a headache!"

"Sure Johnny." Roy placated not at all convinced it wasn't something to be concerned about.

Johnny was tired and fell asleep quickly. His partner couldn't say the same.

* * *

"_Hey John, I have a story for you want to hear it?" Eleven year old Shannon asked as they skipped stones across the water. They'd gone to their favorite place to fish, sunshine, warm and bright filled the sky, and a gently breeze would kiss the top of their heads now and again to ruffle their hair. They fished for only a short time before resorting to their favorite game, seeing which one could out do the other in a skipping stone contest. _

_The nine year old loved hearing the legends and stories of both his mother's people and Shannon's and he eagerly shook his head, the stones in his hand forgotten. "Yeah!" he readily agreed and settled himself down on a grassy patch to listen._

_Shannon smiled indulgently at her friend, more like a kid brother, "it is a story about our creation, it's called Old Man at the Beginning."_

_

* * *

_"_At the beginning of the world, there was nothing but water. It was dark in the world, and no one saw the water of the world._

_Then the Old Man of the Crow People came into the world, and he looked all around and said, "Is there nothing in this world but water?"_

_Off in the distance, Old Man saw that there were two little ducks swimming about. These ducks had red eyes. Old Man called them to him. They came swimming, paddling in the world of water._

_Old Man said to them, "Is there nothing in this world but water?"_

_The elder duck answered, "We have never seen anything in this world but water, but we think that there may be something down under the water. We feel it in our hearts."_

_"Dive down, Younger Duck," said Old Man, and the younger of the little ducks dove deep under the water, looking for the bottom. He was gone a long time, and Old Man said, "Oh, I am afraid Younger Duck has drowned."_

_"No," said the Elder Duck, "we are able to hold our breath for a long time. He will come back up." At about that time, Younger Duck came up with something in his bill. It was a root._

_"If there is a root," said Old Man, "then there must be earth as well. Dive down Elder Duck, and see if you find some earth."_

_The elder duck dove deep, and was gone for a very long time. When he came up, he had a ball of mud in his bill._

_"This is what I have been looking for," said Old Man. He took the root and put it in the ball of wet earth, and blew three times on it. Once he blew, twice he blew, and again he blew on the ball of earth. The ball began to grow and fill the world and push the water aside. It grew until there was a great land, with many plants and animals living on it._

_The ducks, who live in water, on land, and in the sky, brought up the earth, and Old Man made the world for the Crow People._

_

* * *

_

"_Tell it again?" John begged. Shannon laughed and ruffled his shaggy locks. "I think I just made a mistake." But she told the story again. _

_

* * *

_

"_Mama, I heard the best story today." Johnny told his mother when they sat down to dinner that evening._

"_Ah, Shannon must have given you a new tale. Only Shannon's stories make your eyes come alive with excitement, John."_

"_Not true Mama, I like yours too." He gave his mother an endearing lopsided grin._

"_Oh, you are a little sweet-talker." His mother laughed a lovely sound to young John's ears. _

"_Must take after me then," His father stressed the look he gave his mother filled with tenderness and love._

"_Yes," his mother's eyes were reflecting the look back at him, "it certainly would appear that way."_

_

* * *

_

Johnny came awake blinking hard. His hand reached up to discover his cheeks were wet. He scrubbed a hand down his face. His subconscious was really on the prowl tonight because that particular story happened to be one of Johnny's favorites. It reminded him of happier times, when both his mother and Shannon were still alive, and his father was a kind and gentle man, not the mean bastard he'd turn out to be a mere three years later.

* * *

_Authors note: I came across this wonderful story entitled Old Man at the Beginning. It and others like it can found at First People website.  
_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

_Sorry about the wait. Long work week!_

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Six

* * *

"Gage, you made the paper, did ya see the article?"

Playing a game of one on one basketball, Chet coaxed his tired co-worker into playing; with the lure of a free lunch should Johnny win.

"Nah, I didn't bother reading the story since I lived it. What's the point?" Dribbling the ball past Chet's defensive move, Johnny laid one up to the rim. "Ahead by five," he called gloatingly, "one more and you owe me lunch, Chester."

"It isn't over yet funny man." Chet taking the ball weaved in and out, determined to pass Johnny and shoot. Johnny determined not to give Chet the advantage stayed with him, until with a reserve step Chet, moved past and prepared to fire the ball. Johnny jumped to block the shot and got an elbow to the side of his head for his trouble. "Ow." He yelled and found himself unceremoniously dumped on his backside. Chet took the shot and scored.

"Gage, unless they invented a new set of rules for basketball, I don't think sitting on your ass is one of 'em."

Johnny rubbed at his throbbing left temple. He felt disorientated. "Gimme a minute."

"Poor _whittle_ Gage," Chet mimicked. "You're going soft yah know that?"

The words had the desired effect, "Soft? Not on your life." Quickly hopping to his feet Johnny felt his world revolve. Chet reached out to help steady him before he toppled.

"Whoa, Johnny maybe you _should_ take a minute."

"Must' a got up to fast." Johnny mumbled, feeling sick to his stomach.

The sensation of being lightheaded subsided quickly, along with the feeling of nausea.

"Are you certain you're alright? You don't look so hot."

"Yeah, just got up to fast, are we gonna finish playing or not?"

The man looked like he needed a bed, not running around playing ball Chet thought. "Nah, now that I took a breather, I'm thirsty, let's call it a day."

"Going soft?" Johnny teased as they made their way back inside. "You owe me lunch."

Chet gave him a half smile, "Technically I don't. We didn't finish the game."

The color had come back into Johnny's face. He looked better. Maybe it was as he said, he just happened to get up to fast.

"Isn't it just like you to try and weasel out on a bet? I was up by five points. You owe me lunch."

"Don't get all excited Gage I'm good for it."\

In early spring, the beautiful flowering brush that added color and heady fragrance to the air also caused concern for the fire department. The dry conditions they were experiencing combined to create an environment combustible enough to fuel brush fires. The station was called to Condor Canyon in the Angeles National Forest, to help assist and fight a rather swift moving wildfire, and for the next several days, Station 51 spent time on the line.

Canyon fires were laborious, dirty and time consuming, throw in a measure of unpredictability from ever changing wind conditions, and you have one tired group of fireman.

51's paramedics were kept busy. They rinsed their fair share of eyes, treated smoke inhalation victims, dressed minor burns, even rescued two stranded hikers, but nothing life threatening.

Johnny found the days up in the canyon fatiguing. The nights were even more so. Between lack of sleep, his ever-present headache and his troubled dreams, he felt himself dragging. His flagging energy had him deciding if the symptoms didn't clear up he'd have to talk with Brackett. Johnny kept silent, not wanting to set Roy's worry radar in motion. He figured it was the after-effects of his concussion taking a little longer to disappear.

The men of A-shift were certainly glad to return to the station, hot showers and real beds, sounded like heaven. After showering, the first thing they attended too was pulling hose in preparation to wash and hang, and for the next hour washing and polishing both rig and squad.

Big Red now cleaned and polished, stood like a silent red sentinel in the bay. Her laborers were in the kitchen enjoying a cup of coffee.

The squad was almost done. Rubbing an area on the passenger side of the door, Johnny needed more polish. "Roy hand me the polish would ya?"

He stood watching as Roy run the rag over a particularly stubborn spot on the front bumper.

"It's right in front of you." Roy commented.

"It's closer to you than to me." Johnny countered.

Sighing, as if to say _I can't believe you, _Roy scooped up the polish container and held out to his partner. Johnny reached for it and overshot the mark, his peripheral vision off. An onset of dizziness caused him to falter. Every muscle ached, and felt weak.

"Quit fooling around Johnny." The annoyed man stated, "I wanna finish before lunch." Then, noticing his friend's posture, tensed. Johnny wore a strained expression, color leached from his face, looking if he were about to pass out.

"Johnny?" Switching to paramedic mode, Roy swiftly moved to his partner's side, the declining color and rapid breathing more than enough to cause alarm.

"Light headed, dizzy." Johnny barely responded.

Guiding his unsteady friend to the running board of the squad, Roy taking most of his weight, he helped Johnny to sit, automatically pushing the dark head down until it rested between his knees.

"How long have you been feeling like this?" Roy asked squatting down and reaching for a wrist. The pulse under his fingers danced a rapid rhythm. He saw a dark bruise on the side of Johnny's head just above the left ear.

"What?" the muffled reply came.

"I asked you how long you been feeling ill?"

"Roy," Johnny's voice filtered upward from his down position. 'Let me up."

Roy lifted his hand. He'd been keeping a steady pressure on Johnny's head to keep him still.

"Easy," Roy cautioned, as he watched him sit up. "How long?"

"I've been feeling run down lately, tired, but nuthin' I can't handle."

"When did you pick that up?" he said indicating the bruise.

Johnny reached up to touch the tender spot. "A couple days ago while playing basketball with Chet. I forgot it was even there."

"Hey Mike." Roy called to his shift-mate in the kitchen.

"What's up?" Mike stepped into the bay surprised to see Gage sitting on the squad's running board, looking rather sickly.

"Could ya get some water?" Without commenting, Mike turned to carry out Roy's request.

"You should let someone at Rampart examine you. I'm not…"

"No!" Johnny protested immediately. It's the last place I wanna be unless were bringing in a patient. I'm probably just dehydrated; I don't need to go to Rampart Roy!" He knew he sounded like a petulant child. "I'll water up and go rest in the dorm until a run. Then if I'm not feeling better I'll let you drag me in to see whoever."

Hank came out of his office hearing the raised voices.

"What happened?" He demanded, seeing his junior medic looking rather peaked.

"Johnny suffered a dizzy spell," Roy leaving out the part about almost collapsing. "Probable dehydration."

Mike came back into the bay carrying a large glass of water, followed by his other two shift-mates. He handed it to Johnny.

"Thanks." The unwanted attention was making Johnny want to crawl under the rig.

"It was an intense few days on the line. I wouldn't be surprised to hear it." Hank told Roy, eying his junior man. "Do you want to call it in?"

Roy could already see color coming back into Johnny's face and he seemed steadier. His pulse was still a bit fast, but nothing like the galloping racehorse, it had just been.

"No, but he should rest for awhile." Roy told Hank.

"You heard the man. Go." Hank waved Johnny toward the dorm.

Schooling his features Johnny did as ordered.

As soon as the afflicted man was out of ear shot. "Roy?"

"I don't know Cap. He said he felt dizzy and lightheaded. Dehydration, dwindling appetite, his lack of sleep, he's inching toward exhaustion."

"Ah, Roy?" Chet looked concerned, "After he got whacked by my elbow the other day, he was dizzy. He told me it was because got up to fast. He recovered quickly so I didn't think nuthin' of it, but now..."

"I'll mention it to Brackett next time were at Rampart." Roy said.

"Be sure you do Roy." Hank ordered.

The senior paramedic went into the dorm and checked on his partner to find him asleep.

Johnny slept an entire hour before having to leave on a run.

After bringing in the patient, Roy took it upon himself to talk with the doc. He'd left his partner securing supplies. Roy tapped on Brackett's office door.

"Doctor Brackett you gotta minute?"

"Sure Roy, what I can I do for you?" Brackett hanging up the phone, inquired.

"It's about Johnny."

"What about him?" a cautious tone entered the doctors voice.

"I know he'll hit the roof when he finds out I'm in here, but he's been having trouble sleeping and is suffering bouts of vertigo and headaches. He recently took a shot to the head playing basketball with Chet. This morning we returned from being in Condor Canyon. He had an onset of dizziness and rapid pulse. He rested for an hour and seemed to recover quickly."

Brackett was frowning now, "Any vomiting?"

"None that I'm aware of."

"I'm not keen on the symptoms so soon after his recovering from a concussion; it wouldn't hurt to check him over.

Johnny was silent. Not a good sign Roy thought. He waited on his partner to finish buttoning his shirt.

"Johnny…"

Silence…

"Are you gonna talk to me?"

Silence…

It was like dealing with a two year old. "I did it for your own good and I shouldn't have to apologize for it."

Johnny tightly expressed, "Roy I can't _believe_ you went to Brackett behind my back. You don't trust me to know when I need to see a doctor."

"No Johnny, I didn't like those symptoms so soon after a concussion."

"What symptoms?" He said, tucking his shirt into his pants. "Brackett said other than minor dehydration he didn't find anything wrong."

"Chet mentioned the dizzy spell during your basketball match. Explain that."

"I was elbowed in the temple Roy it stunned me for a moment."

Brackett also warned if you weren't careful, exhaustion wasn't far off. I'm sorry if I upset you. I thought while we were at Rampart it wouldn't…"

"I know _what _you thought. Do me a favor. Next time you feel the urge to nursemaid me _mommy_, have the decency to come to me before ratting me out." He shouldered past Roy and walked out the door. The exasperated man raised his eyes to the ceiling and blew out a sigh. It would be a long shift.

There was a decided chill in the air between the two paramedics for the rest of the shift. Johnny's professionalism remained intact when out on a run, but back at the station a completely different scene was taking place. The two paramedics avoided one another. It was unlike their normally forgiving friend to hold a grudge for any length of time, against Roy, so everyone figured it would blow over quickly and the tension would ease. It seemed they were all wrong. Johnny wasn't going to let Roy off the hook so easily this time around.

Tired, Johnny was more than ready to relax. It was nearing 7:30 when the outside station doorbell rang. Hank went and answered it. When he came back, he was wearing a concerned frown. "Gage you have visitors."

Johnny's eyes questioned his captain, but Hank didn't answer. He just inclined his head toward the door.

He found Ryan standing outside with an older man he didn't recognize.

"Ryan!" How are you?"

Ryan was as subdued as he'd been the first time Johnny met him.

"Mr. Gage, I'm Ryan's uncle, Kevin Brown." The two shook hands. "I didn't know if coming here was such a good idea, but Ryan asked me to bring him so he could thank you in person."

"Come in," Johnny invited, moving aside to make room, "I'm glad you came. How are you doing?"

"Okay." Ryan mumbled, "but I don't wanna come in Mr. Gage. I wanted to tell ya thanks and I'm glad you're better. I didn't mean for you to get hurt. "

"My friends call me Johnny." He pulled out his notepad from his top pocket. What he was about to do, was break the number one rule. "If you need anything, you can contact me." Quickly he jotted down both the number to the station and his home phone handing it to Ryan. "Remember for anything." The boy took the slip of paper and tucked it into his jean pocket.

"Thanks." Head down, without another word he walked toward the street were a car was parked.

Kevin spoke. "Ryan has talked about you a few times so I figured I'd give him the chance to apologize. He feels deep remorse for what happened. What you did for Ryan cannot adequately be expressed in thanks Mr. Gage. As you probably are aware, his home life isn't stable. The doctors say removing him from his current environment will help improve the depression. He stays with us when his father allows it. His mother tries her best but she isn't a strong willed woman. My brother-in-law has dependency problems and is heavy handed. My wife and I have been trying to gain temporary custody of Ryan for over a year, but the wheels of justice turn slowly in LA."

Johnny didn't know what to say.

"Ryan is already in the car, so thanks again and enjoy your evening." Kevin followed his nephew out to the car. Johnny watched them drive away. Even seated in the car Ryan never lifted his head.

The boy's plight settled firmly upon him adding to his fatigue. He retired to the dorm. He lay upon the bed. Nobody bothered him.

_Sneezing and sniffling he entered the house. _

"_Mama, I'm not feeling good." Twelve-year-old Johnny told his mother after coming home from school. He'd been feeling sick all day, and he had a terrible headache._

_His dull listless eyes staring out of a pale face, confirmed his illness for his mother. She felt his forehead. "You feel warm. You probably caught my cold. We'll get you into bed and you can rest. You will feel better soon."_

_But he didn't feel better, in fact, all he wanted to do was sleep, there was no part of him that didn't ache, but this horrible coughing wouldn't let him be. He coughed and coughed and could hardly breathe. He felt really bad. He was sick the next day and the next. He lost count of how many days he lay in bed. Then his lungs burned when he breathed. He was carried out the door by his father and into the car; his mother sitting in the backseat with him, his head rested in her lap. He fell asleep. When he woke he was lying in a strange bed, the air in the room was misty and heavy. He didn't like it. _

"_Mama?" Johnny called, frightened of being in a strange room, having to breathe the heavy air, but mostly he'd been frightened awake by what he'd seen in a dream. The midnight shadow of a Raven visited. An omen of change. _

"_Hush John, you are safe, go back to sleep," Her soothing voice not far from his head, spoke softly. She was coughing. A too warm hand rested on his hot brow making him feel restless._

"_I'm afraid of going to sleep Mama." Hacking coughs made him quit talking for while._

"_Why?" His mother's concerned face swam within his fever-induced eyesight. _

"_Raven visited in my sleep."_

"_It was only a dream. Close your eyes. I will be here when you wake up John."_

"_No Mama! I know something bad will happen if I go to sleep!"_

"_Hush now. Nothing will happen, close your eyes."_

_He fought to keep them open, but his eyes closed of their own accord, his mother's coughing following him into sleep._

"_Mama?" Johnny called. "Mama?" Restless and hot he pushed off the sheet, which covered him. _

"_You're mother isn't here at the moment John," a kindly voice in a white uniform spoke, pulling the sheet back up to his bare chest. "She's with your father. She'll be back soon." _

"_My chest hurts." Johnny complained._

"_I know it will feel better when the coughing goes away."_

_"I'm thirsty." The nurse helped him sip some water. "When's my Mama coming back?"_

"_Soon."_

_He slept again._

_When next he woke, his father was by his bed._

"_Pop?" Johnny weakly called. Looking around he didn't see his mother. His coughing turned violent. _

_When Johnny saw the hard desperate look in his father's eyes, fear instantly grabbed him._

"_Mama?_

"_She's very sick John. She is in another room being looked after.'_

"_I told Mama I didn't want to go to sleep, something bad would happen, but I couldn't stay awake. I'm sorry Pop!" Johnny began coughing again unable to catch his breath. His father didn't assist him. Gentle hands helped him to sit up. The nurse's kind words and soothing actions punched a hole through his fear. "You need sleep. Everything will be okay. Shh." Exhausted beyond his limits his eyes closed again. _

_He'd slept for a very long time, because when he woke again, he felt better and the misty air was gone. Fear once again visited when he discovered he was alone in the room._

The dream-haunted paramedic opened his eyes. Looking around, he could see it was late. He lay there in the quiet stillness of his bed, hearing the gentle breathing or occasional snores of his friends. Wide-awake he thought of his mother who developed a complication to the illness she'd contracted.

Both he and his mother were sickened with a virulent strain of the flu. In some cases like his mother, whose immune system weakened from a prior illness couldn't fight off the infection as easily. The infection turned into pneumonia. She fought the illness for two weeks before her tired body, gave out. His father's angry words came back to him and cut him as deeply as the first time he'd heard them.

"_It's because of you she's gone."_

He tossed and turned, the rest of the night.

Another long weekend came and went. Johnny spent his days off not leaving his apartment. He was no closer to catching up on his sleep as he'd been at the station. One bright spot in his weekend, the headache he'd been plagued with seemed to disappear. He'd had only one in the last few days. Roy rang and tried getting him to come out the house but Johnny ignored the invitation still out of sorts with his partner.

Tuesday of that week the shift proved extremely busy for the station, for Johnny the shift seemed to stretch on forever. A rather large and stubborn industrial fire in the Amco complex occupied the station for most of the day, the heat and intensive nature of the fire zapped what little stamina Johnny had left, but the day wasn't over. The evening had the paramedic pair scrambling on four back-to-back runs, keeping them from the station over the dinner hour. They grabbed a sandwich from the cafeteria when they had time. When finally they returned to the station around 10:30, Roy went to the kitchen to eat, while Johnny saying he wasn't hungry went into the dorm and sat on the edge of the bed blind with fatigue. He didn't have the energy to undress so instead just lay back and was asleep instantly.

When Roy came into the dorm, he found his partner fully clothed lying on top of his bed, his legs hanging over the side.

"Hey Johnny you gonna at least remove your shoes?"

Silence.

"Johnny?" His partner was out. For just a second Roy thought about waking him. Instead, he walked over to his exhausted friends bunk and took his shoes off, placing Johnny's legs on the bed. He never moved.

A few hours later, everyone would be in for a rude awakening, literally.

_Shannon… is gone. We informed your father we thought he told you."_

"_Gone where? When will she be back? She didn't tell me she was leaving." Johnny hadn't spoken to Shannon in a couple of days. He'd called to remind her they were still going to the movie theater that evening. She wouldn't leave on his birthday, especially his 16th birthday. Shannon had done nothing but talk about it for weeks._

"_John…" Kevin Foster's voice broke. He heard a sob._

_An icy chill ran down the entire length of his tension-filled body and breached his soul. He knew... and he didn't want to hear anymore._

"_I- I can't believe your father wouldn't have... son... I don't know how to tell you... I'm sorry you're hearing it this way, had I known I would have... We asked you're father to inform you. Shannon...oh God, she's gone son…she died in a car accident two days ago. The funeral is tomorrow."_

_Johnny's vision narrowed and grayed. No longer in control he started shaking so violently he thought he'd shake apart. He remained mute the devastating news shutting off coherent speech. His mind went numb. He forgot where he was, who he was, or even why he was standing holding a phone. He looked stupidly down at it before replacing it back in its cradle. His head swam. His stomach recoiling he turned just making it to the kitchen garbage and retched. Rubbery legs gave out. He dropped to the floor, keening a death chant and Shannon's name. His mournful cry would have sent shivers down anyone's spine had they been with him._ _Staring vacantly rocking back and forth hugging his body, he lost all sense of time. He keep repeating the same word. "No._

"John."

"_No, no."_

John!"

Cap's authoritative voice laced with calm assurance pulled him from his dream. Johnny blinked rapidly looking around in a state of dazed confusion, shivering. Heart racing, hands shaking, he ran them through his hair. Focusing he stared into the compassion filled eyes of Captain Stanley crouched in front of him. The rest of his shift-mates crowded around in commiseration. Johnny realized he was sprawled on the floor next to his bed. "Oh Man!" he said mortified.

Hank waved everyone back to bed as he saw John's trance-like gaze replaced by one of acute self-conscious awareness. His shift-mates quickly dispersed every one of them concerned. They were all aware of Johnny's continued nightmares but this latest mental picture scared the seasoned firefighters like no burning building ever could have. Roy discreetly left for the latrine to give his partner a chance to calm down and gather his scattered wits. _Junior, your gonna, have to talk with someone._

Not in his numerous years on the job, Hank reflected, and they were considerable, had he ever heard such a soul piercing wail of grief emerge from a human being. Every nerve tingled in his body, his stomach somersaulted, and all of the fine hair on his neck, arms and legs had risen at the sound. This combination left him badly shaken and fully concerned for his nightmare-plagued paramedic. Johnny raised himself from the floor and sat on the edge of his bed. Shamed, his face flaming, he apologized, "God, Cap I'm sorry I woke everyone." His hand snaked through his hair again. He was soaked with sweat and needed to change.

"John it happens to all of us, there's no need to apologize," The captain's voice calmed his shaky medic. When John nodded, Hank returned to his own bunk. What John needed now was a little space, not more words.

As Roy splashed water on his face, Chet, Mike and Marco joined him.

"Roy do you know what is causing Johnny's nightmares?" Mike asked, his nerves still recovering from the sound of total loss. The engineer suffered through plenty of nightmares. Every one of them did. In their line of work, the things they witnessed, dreams were inevitable. Johnny's nightmares were personal, more life memory than fantasy. He suspected he knew after hearing Johnny's confession to Ryan, but since Roy was Johnny's partner, they shared things, which the others weren't privy too.

"I'm not sure myself Mike. Something has triggered painful childhood memories. Johnny won't talk about it. I suspect it has something to do with Ryan."

"I know."

Roy became aware that Mike must have overheard Johnny on the roof too.

"We'll do anything we can to help." Marco affirmed.

"Just be there in case he asks." Roy suggested.

"Always," The other answered. Mike nodded in agreement while Chet frowned.

Chet never one for diplomacy blurted, "Why is Johnny having nightmares? Who is Shannon?"

"If I had the answers Chet do you think we'd be here now?" Giving the mustached man, a brief _I'm not sure about you look _headed for his bunk.

"It seems to me," Chet griped to his remaining audience, "Gage's nightmares are getting a whole lot more frightening. Do ya think the knock to his head made em worse? Maybe he should see a shrink. He's waking us up nightly."

He never saw it coming. "Ouch!" Chet cried, feeling a solid whack to the back of his head. "What the...Why'd you hit me Mike!" Chet grumbled, eyes tearing from the sting he rubbed the tender spot. His eyes went wide as he considered who was doing the hitting, then even wider when he heard Mike complain.

"Are you kidding? Mike disgustedly accused his shift-mate, "You're overwhelming empathy is touching Chet!"

"Yeah," his other exasperated crewmember chimed in, "If Stoker didn't slap some sense into you I would have. It's amazing you have any friends at all if this is how you help them."

"What'd I say? I just thought..."

"Forget it, my thick-skulled amigo. tú nunca entederás" Marco added further in Spanish.

"I agree with you Marco," Mike remarked to his annoyed friend as both turned to walk away, "he _will_ _never_ understand."

The bemused linemen could only rub his head and stare after his irate crewmates.

After changing his T-shirt Johnny donned his turnouts and went to sit at the kitchen table. Hank lay in his bunk, watching as John passed. The long overdue conversation with his junior paramedic loomed on the horizon.

Sitting at the table and looking at the clock it read 2.19 am. He didn't want to go to sleep for fear he'd have a repeat performance, but God he was tired! He embarrassed himself good this time. What must his shift-mates be thinking?

Roy debated on whether to go to Johnny unsure of the reception he'd receive. Roy quickly made up his mind. Johnny needed a friend and that's what he was. He followed.

Roy quietly joined his friend at the table not saying a word. His presence calmed the younger man, and spoke to him of integrity. The two sat quietly for sometime before Johnny broke the silence the prior chill between them gone.

"Roy? Do ya think I'm losing' it?"

"No, I don't" Roy's response immediate paused a moment before continuing. "You're exhausted." Unsure which way he wanted to take this conversation he shared, "You're dealing with some pretty powerful nightmares, junior. Something triggered 'em and you owe it to yourself to figure out the why of it."

"You and Cap both know." Johnny challenged and impaled his partner with a meaningful gaze.

The Klaxon sounded causing both men to tense. _**"**__Squad 51 Woman injured. 112th W 231st Cross Street, S. Main. Meet police before entering. Time out 02:41"_

A cold hand grabbed Johnny. At once, they both recognized the address as the Clayton home.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Seven

* * *

The flashing lights of the LAPD patrol car revolved around and around, it's strobe-light effect bouncing off houses in the immediate area. These were joined by the revolving lights from the squad, creating a swirling light show in the predawn darkness. The LAPD officer greeted them upon arrival. Even though it was after two in the morning neighbors milled about, drawn outside by the sirens.

"You sure got here fast." LAPD Officer Mark Watkins met them as they pulled up. "We've been here about five minutes," he said indicating his partner who was on the radio. They could see Rodger Clayton handcuffed and sitting in the backseat complaining loudly, "When am I gonna get someone to pay attention, my back is killing me."

"One of the neighbors called it in. There's a woman injured inside, but we haven't been able to get to her since her son won't let anyone near. He's scared and holding a baseball bat, threatening to take out anybody who comes in. The woman is lying on the floor. She looks pretty bad. From what we can gather from the neighbors, the husband got drunk beat his wife and the only reason he stopped, the son brandished a baseball bat and struck him with it. The husband tried to flee but as you can see didn't make it far. He'll need to be examined. The boy hit him solid."

Grabbing the oxygen canister, drug and trauma boxes the two stepped into the front entrance. "Ryan it's the fire department," Roy called. "We need to come inside to help your mother."

"No!" The determined voice yelled back. "You come in here and you'll be sorry!"

"Son for the last time," The police officer warned, "you need to allow us entry."

"We can attempt going through the back." Roy told the officer, "If you can keep the boys attention out here it's worth a try."

"Roy hold up, let me try something first." Johnny said.

The concerned paramedic cautiously walked further in and identified himself. He could see Ryan holding the bat in a protective posture over his mother.

"Ryan, its Johnny Gage. The policeman spoke the truth. Your father won't be allowed back into the house tonight. He's sitting in the patrol car. Your mother is in need of medical attention. You're preventing her from getting help."

The agitated boy recognizing Johnny sobbed, "I couldn't call you! My dad found the paper you gave me and ripped the telephone cord away from the wall; said nobody would be calling anybody from now on. Then he got drunk and went after my mom. Please help her." Sobbing he lowered his weapon and let them pass. The officer quickly removed the bat from Ryan's hand.

Margery Clayton's body lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, semi-conscious. She was wearing night clothes. Over turned furniture, broken glass and blood spattered about the floor and walls, testimony to the domestic violence which took place.

Glass crunched under Roy's feet as he made his way toward the supine woman's side. He immediately began his assessment. "Margery can you hear me?" her only response was to moan.

Johnny led the shaking boy into the kitchen so he wouldn't have to continue seeing his injured mother.

"I _hate_ my dad." The eleven year old going on twenty said, his face reflecting his true feelings. Johnny didn't comment. He'd voiced the same sentiment a time or two.

"Are you hurt anywhere other than your face?" Ryan had a dark bruise which ran along his right cheek and a cut above his right eye. Checking the boy for injury Johnny found a few bruises on his arms and one on his torso.

"My dad dragged her from their bed. He started yelling. Then he started smacking her. When I tried to pull him off he pushed me away, and I fell against the cabinet over there." He pointed. "That's how I got these." Ryan's eyes took on a far-away gaze. "She was begging for him to stop. He kept yelling at her, saying how she's such a disappointment, that she shouldn't have let other's know about our families business." Ryan hung his head. "He said I was crazy. He found the paper with your name and number and went wild. When he asked my mom about it she couldn't answer cuz she didn't know anything about it. I didn't tell her."

The feeling he was partly to blame for Margery's state ate at him as Johnny let the boy talk.

"He kept hitting her. After awhile she stopped making any noise, but that didn't stop him. I ran and got my baseball bat and I hit him hard with it. I didn't want to but I didn't know what else to do. He wouldn't stop!" Ryan was sobbing hard now.

"Ryan it's over now." Johnny soothed, trying to settle the emotionally traumatized boy. "It's over.

From a child's face, perceptive aged eyes looked into those of the paramedics. "You don't know! It won't be over till he kills her…"

Hearing those chilling words from the lips of an eleven year old had Johnny wishing he had Rodger Clayton in front of him.

After bandaging Margery Clayton's wounds, splinting her broken arm and setting her up with an IV, both mother and son were loaded into the ambulance. Roy rode in with them, while Johnny stayed behind to examine Rodger Clayton.

The junior police officer opened the opposite door of the patrol car for Johnny. "Where are you hurt?" Johnny leaned in to ask, his voice hard. The last thing he'd wanted to do was patch up the low piece of humanity responsible for the carnage inside, but he was bound by an ethical code and he stuck to it. Rodger was shirtless and Johnny scanned the man with his eyes. No injuries were showing in the front.

"Let me see your back." Johnny ordered.

Rodger complied and leaned forward complaining of back pain as he did so. Dark bruises across his upper back, and high on one shoulder were plainly visible. Johnny didn't feel sorry for him. Clayton's hands showed evidence of just what he'd done. Blood from the wife he was supposed to love and protect marred his hands. It turned Johnny's stomach.

"The big hero _Johnny Gage, _I'm honored sir." Rodger spat derisively, as Johnny took his pulse. "My boy thinks you're something special. I don't. Leave my crazy kid alone. Don't be giving him any help or phone numbers."

Johnny continued with his exam ignoring Rodger as best he could. He could smell the sour odor of beer and it forced a flash memory. Rodger's eyes missed nothing.

"What's the matter hero? The man antagonized, "You look like you're gonna be sick."

"Okay buddy." Officer Watkins spoke. "Conversation over, let the paramedic treat you or we head downtown, either way shut your trap."

"Yes sir _officer. _Sporting a grin, and then grimacing. "Damn who'd a thought my weakling of a kid would have such a swing?"

Johnny went to work. There weren't any broken bones, but since Rodger complained of back pain, Rampart advised he be brought to the hospital. Since an IV wasn't required, this was one time Johnny was relieved a police officer was riding in the back with the patient.

"You okay?" Roy questioned noting how pale his partner appeared after relinquishing Clayton's care to the emergency staff at Rampart.

Johnny didn't answer. He was tied in knots.

The two paramedics hung around Rampart until they had news of Margery's condition. Johnny's silent but constant pacing left Roy edgy.

After the boy had been examined, he'd been brought to the doctor's lounge to wait with the officer. Emotionally and physically drained he promptly fell asleep.

Ryan's mother suffered two broken ribs, facial lacerations needing stitches, two black eyes, a broken left arm, contusions, and bruises. Though Ryan's wounds stemmed from being pushed rather than beaten, the psychological wounds of what he'd been forced to see, hear, and do ran deep.

"Kid's aunt and uncle will be here shortly to take him home for the night." The officer informed them as they prepared to leave. "Once the father is finished up here, he'll be brought downtown. Because a minor child was present during the abuse, charges will be filed, but being it's only a class d felony, he'll probably be out on bail tomorrow. The mother has declined to file a restraining order or assault charges, claims it was all a big misunderstanding. If it weren't for her son, intervening…'

* * *

Tension permeated the squad on the way back to the station. It was nearing 4:15 AM. Roy tried breaking through his friend's wall of silence.

"John…."

"Save it Roy." Johnny told him crossly reaching for the microphone, "LA squad 51, available and returning to quarters." he angrily informed the dispatcher.

"10- 4 51"

"Talk to me." Roy insisted. His friend was a pressure gauge ready to go critical.

"You don't wanna know." Staring straight ahead Johnny's cold words perforated the solid tension in the squad.

"I do or I wouldn't have asked." The statement was calmly given.

"I'm sitting here thinking I wish I could be as calm as you," His emotionally inflamed partner began. "How _do you_ manage to switch it off Roy? How can you remain so unaffected, after being witness to an eleven year old boy guarding his bloodied defenseless mother with a baseball bat?" Did we make a difference tonight? I gave Ryan my phone number and Rodger found it. Did it contribute to what happened? I can't help thinking I am partially to blame. Margery plans on returning home with the boy, even though her she has the marks of a fresh beating. Brackett tried talking sense into her but she won't listen to _reason_." Johnny's voice turned hard as oak, "I sat and listened to a resigned young boy tell me he expects his father to someday end the life of his mother! Eventually there's gonna be a next time Roy ya know there will, and next time she might not live through it! So tell me the secret of how you stay so cool, calm and collected."

Johnny's passionate words lingered in the air and penetrated Roy's defensive amour. His eyes narrowed, his lips compressed, and his hands clamped tightly to the steering wheel until they hurt from the pressure. Keeping his eyes on the road he spoke as levelly as his emotions would allow.

"Junior, don't think for one minute I don't want to grab the s.o.b. and beat him senseless!" His voice raised a notch his tone angry. "I bleed and breathe just like you but I can't afford to let myself go off half cocked. If you think I wasn't affected by what I saw in that house, think again. Right now, this minute, I feel physically sick! How could I not be affected?" I have a son of my own for God sake!

Johnny's eyes widened to hear Roy's voice raised in anger. If he'd been paying attention he would have heard the genuine outrage, seen his partner's frustration at not being able to control the situation… Instant guilt flooded him for allowing his own feelings to take precedence over his partner's obvious distress. He felt dismay in accusing Roy, in essence, of a lack of feeling. For the moment he sat without saying anything.

"Don't loose your objectivity here junior." Roy spoke the words with emphasis. "As hard as our profession can be at times because of the things we witness, and the toll it can take emotionally, remember why the number one rule is in place. I stay calm because people are depending on me to be the one to see them through a crisis situation. I stay calm Johnny because one mistake can cost lives." The fiery explanation at an end he relaxed his hands and felt the blood surge through them once again. His voice returned to its normal calm inflection.

"Letting your emotions sway you into negative action won't accomplish a thing."

"There's the difference in us then."

Johnny spoke his next words with such ferocity Roy felt them physically, his indrawn breath audible.

"Everyone Roy, when pushed far enough is capable of violence." Johnny's hand tapped his chest for emphasis. "It lies here within us all. Let me be in the same room with Clayton and see which one of us isn't standing when I'm done."

Roy's response was sure and steady. "You are nothing like Rodger Clayton, Johnny. I know you. Believe me there is a marked difference. Right now, you're caught up in your emotions and not thinking straight."

"I wonder, Roy? Do you really know me? I may snap one day and become like my old..." Johnny clamped his mouth shut before he finished the words. He almost revealed his worst fear, that he harbored the same darkness in him as his father and that one day, he would break and become just like him.

Intuition told Roy they were no longer talking about Rodger Clayton. He slowed down and guided the squad to the side of the road where he placed it in park, turned on the flashers and let the engine idle.

"What are ya doing?" His miserable partner asked.

Putting as much paternal inflection in his tone as possible Roy addressed his friend, "This may be none of my business John and you may very well tell me to go to hell when I'm finished, but I need you to listen to me now. For weeks I have seen whatever it is you are trying to deal with tearing you up emotionally. You are not sleeping for more than a couple hours at a stretch, you're barely eating, and you're suffering from nightmares. Everyone has a past Johnny so I respected your right to privacy. "But," he stressed the word, "Things have escalated to the point where I can no longer afford to watch my best friend, battle alone the monsters under his bed."

Johnny sat stiffly in anger but didn't interrupt.

"From the bits and pieces you've disclosed, I gather there's a time in your childhood filled with painful memories you'd rather forget, if it's even possible to do so. From what Cap and I overheard you tell Ryan, somebody physically abused you. I'm thinking it was your father."

For just a second before Johnny dropped his gaze to the floor the statement _the eyes are a mirror to the soul_ came to mind as Roy saw a wounded spirit. The senior paramedic felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. When Johnny didn't dispute his claim he concluded, "Talk to somebody junior, the nightmares, they won't stop until you do."

Johnny's reply came through clenched lips. "I won't discuss this Roy. Not with you and especially a shrink!"

"You're going to have too eventually. If this starts affecting your job performance I will have no choice but too..."

"What!" the stunned paramedic's head snapped up, "Man I can't believe this! Are you for real Roy? My job performance? Somebody been complaining? You have a complaint?" Hurt, confused, and feeling a bit betrayed Johnny looked to his partner.

Roy nearly ended the conversation, Johnny's hurt and bewildered expression were enough to stay his next words. Almost. He continued because this is what his friend needed to hear.

"Not this time Johnny, but you have to understand we're a team, partners. What affects you, affects me."

Johnny looked away. He couldn't argue the point because Roy was right. As closely as they worked together, any problems he had would inadvertently rebound onto his partner, and as partner's, they had to trust one another without question. He needed to be clear-headed or it could cause Roy an accident or worse. The fear of rejection reared its ugly head. "Are you thinking you'd rather not work with me?"

It was Roy's turn to become confused. He detected fear in his friends tone. "Not work with... No! Johnny how can you think…that's not what I'm saying at all!"

Johnny heard the sincerity but he wanted this conversation over.

"Roy, I'm too bushed to keep this conversation going." His headache flared to life and he rubbed his head. "B'sides you never told me the difference."

Roy knew what Johnny was doing. _It's not going away and neither am I. You can't run and hide forever as much as you might want too. This will all blow up in your face if you don't confront it soon._

Turning off the flashers, He looked toward his close friend. The blue in Roy's eyes intensified, as the glow of a street lamp illuminating the inside of the cab, struck them.

"The difference is night and day. The Rodger Clayton's of the world care only about themselves. They don't give a damn if they hurt anyone, they're cowards. Their power comes from intimidation. I know you feel somehow responsible for what happened to Margery. Don't torture yourself with it, Junior. Rodger Clayton is responsible and no one else. If you start second guessing yourself, you may as well quit tomorrow. Let me stress a point here. You have something Rodger Clayton can never profess to have, it's called compassion. You _are _a good person. Stop trying to convince yourself otherwise. Don't allow Rodger Clayton, or anyone for that matter, to take it from you, hear me? No one, Johnny that includes yourself. I'm very sure on this score; you aren't a coward, not in any form. I trust you with my life, remember that."

Roy's candid response took the wind from his sails. Contrite he uttered, "I'm sorry I took it out on you."

Giving his friend a reassuring glance, "What are friends for?"

The extremely exhausted paramedic leaned into the seat and remained silent, the rest of the way back.

As Roy parked the squad into the bay, he discovered Johnny had fallen asleep. His head rested up against the window.

He nudged him.

"Hm?"

"Were back at the station."

"Kay." Johnny didn't move.

"Are you gonna stay in the squad junior?"

"Maybe for just a little, I'm too tired to move."

"Suit yourself."

* * *

_The funeral was half-way over and John felt nothing. He watched Shannon's family members and friends alike, sob without so much of a flicker of emotion. Her coffin was ready to be committed to the ground. It rested next to a deep narrow open hole, where it would lay for all eternity at the conclusion of the service. A picture of Shannon's smiling countenance, in stark contrast to the deeply tragic faces worn by the mourners, rested in a frame atop the closed casket. Many people had gathered to show respect for this, Shannon's final story._

_Stone-faced he listened to the preacher's words telling of eternal life and promises of seeing the beloved dead at the time of resurrection. Hogwash, Johnny thought. None of it meant anything. He looked around again to find Kevin Foster's eyes resting upon him. He purposely looked away unable to stand the sympathy he read in them. _

"_We commit the body of our daughter Shannon…."_

_He tuned out the preacher, tuned out the sobs, and turned inward, reaching for his quiet dark place and stayed there._

_Nothing touched him as he let the dark fragrant dirt of Mother Earth slide through his fingers in a steady stream. He felt nothing as he watched it hit the top of the casket and scatter, just like everyone in his life. He felt nothing as he walked by Shannon's parents, her mother enveloping him in an all encompassing embrace, whispering words of comfort he did not hear. He disengaged from her arms and walked slowly out of the cemetery amid calls for him not to walk home alone it was much to far to walk. He didn't heed their words he kept walking…_

_He felt nothing until hours later._

_He stood alone with a full bottle of his father's potent whiskey clutched in his hand. The isolation proved to be too much and he figured it would be better to cease to exist, then be in a world filled with pain, broken promises, and the ever present knowledge he was an unwanted hindrance._

_He broke the seal, twisted off the cap and tipped the despised bottle full of liquor to his lips intending to down its entire contents. He'd heard stories of how others had died from drinking too much all at once. That was the goal._

_As he took his first swallow and the fiery liquid burned its way toward his empty stomach were it spread false warmth, it beckoned for him to continue. How easy it was to tip the bottle again and drink. As he took his second large gulp, his watery eyes were drawn to a picture over the fireplace. As he knocked back his third long swallow, it no longer burned going down. Was this how easy his father found it? As he drank for the fourth time his eyes never left the picture which gained his sole attention, and with sudden clarity knew he wouldn't go through with what he'd planned._

_Slowly he carefully placed the bottle, now missing over a quarter of its contents down on the coffee table and walked to the mantle on shaky legs. He could feel the alcohol rushing to his head, spreading outward causing him to relax and feel lightheaded. He picked up the picture that had saved him and stared at it whispering, "I'm sorry for even thinking it," before hugging it tightly to his chest. It started as a slight ripple working its way down his body, followed by a much stronger tremor. He tasted the bitter salty tang of his tears. The haven of feeling nothing was replaced by a flood of gut wrenching grief. He stumbled to the couch before his legs crumbled. Through his harsh tears he saw the faces of Shannon and his mother smiling up at him. The just turned sixteen year old, sobbed for his mother long gone, his sister-hood friend who he would miss with every breath he took, and a father who despised him. He looked to the bottle sitting on the table. It offered him an escape from his pain. Slowly he reached for it, but not to drink. Instead he replaced the cap and set it back on the table. He wouldn't be his father._

* * *

When morning tones sounded Roy found Johnny's bed empty and went looking for his partner thinking he was still sleeping in the cab. Not finding him there, he figured he'd removed himself to the day room as he'd been doing. When he didn't find Johnny lying on the couch, he frowned unsure where he'd gotten too. He asked Mike who was in the kitchen if he'd seen Johnny. Mike shook his head. Looking in the bathroom and not finding him, Roy went outside to see if his friend was in his car, he wasn't there either. Walking passed the tower he glanced up and froze in place. His partner was on top, asleep, with his legs dangling off the edge. Fear twisted his gut. How had he missed hearing the Klaxons?

"Roy, if he moves..."

Roy turned to find Mike standing behind him looking up. He could tell Stoker was as frightened by the sight as he was.

"I hate it when he goes up there." Roy said a slight waver to his voice.

"I'll go wake him." Mike told his shift-mate, knowing the other's dislike of the tower.

Carefully Mike climbed and stopped when he was level with the top of the roof. It was a clear sunny morning and Mike could see the populace of Carson City starting to head for work.

It took three attempts to wake his exhausted shift-mate.

When Johnny opened tired eyes it was to see a bright morning sky. He felt a strong grip on his bunker pants. What?

"Move back." Mike's voice ordered, full of command.

Groggily he complied without question. Down on the ground Roy could breathe again as he watched his partner's body scurry further back.

Johnny could see relief in Mikes' eyes.

"What happened?"

"It seems you chose a dangerous place to fall asleep, next time stick to the dayroom."

Guess I shouldn't have come up here as tired as I was."

"You're not getting any argument from me." Mike said.

Once the pair was on solid ground the engineer returned inside and left Roy to deal with Johnny.

"You think it wise to be climbing up there as tired as you've been? You could have fallen."

"Sorry Roy."

The last thing Roy wanted to be was confrontational, but his partner just scared the hell out of him and he wasn't about to walk away until Johnny understood that. "Listen, from now on promise me you'll steer clear of the tower, until you are more rested." Roy's tone didn't invite argument.

"Sure." Johnny said quietly aware by Roy's body language his friend was upset but trying hard not to show it.

"After you get some sleep why don't you come by the house?" Roy invited. "The kids…"

"I don't know. I'll call you later."

Roy knew he wouldn't. So he played dirty and had Jennifer call.

That evening Johnny found himself at the DeSoto home for dinner. He couldn't disappoint his favorite girl. She'd called and told him how much she missed him. He knew Roy had put her up to it, and surprisingly he wasn't upset by it.

He'd gone earlier than planned too. Jenny's plea begging him over the phone to come early convinced him. He found it difficult to say no to either of Roy's kids. He enjoyed himself and realized he'd missed their company.

"It's good to see you Johnny." Joanne warmly greeted with a kiss to the cheek as soon as he'd stepped inside. Roy's children nearly tackled him to the ground in their exuberance to greet him. They always put a smile on his face.

He'd played a couple of games with them, even letting Jennifer rope him into playing house, Chris smart enough to slink away sat next to his father on the coach a chapter book in hand. Roy smiled as he watched his friend and his daughter at play. The unique thing about Johnny was his ability to adapt. Whether dealing with adults or children, he could relate on any level. Johnny visibly relaxed as the hour passed. Once seated at the table Joanne was more than pleased to see Johnny eating seconds. From what Roy had been telling her Johnny had virtually stopped eating. Being rail thin already he couldn't afford to drop any weight.

Glad he decided to come over early, felt relaxed for the first time in a very long while.

It wasn't to last. He was greeted with the news, during the next shift, that Rodger Clayton secured his bail and Margery Clayton returned home with Ryan after signing herself out of the hospital.


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

_Let me know what you think!  
_

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Eight

* * *

Leaning against the squad Dwyer was waiting for the shift change when he caught a glimpse of his station-mate coming in and was disturbed by his appearance.

"Roy, I hafta ask. What's going on with Johnny? He looks like something the cat dragged in."

"Not my place to say Tom."

"Okay, gotcha Roy." The understanding of whatever bothered Gage was personal and none of his business, rang loud and clear. "I'm headed home. You have a good one," Pausing, thinking he would add something, decided against it and moved on.

"Thanks, Tom." Roy said and meant it. He watched his partner make his way toward the locker room to change. "Good morning Johnny." he greeted.

"Morning." Johnny returned without enthusiasm.

Ever since Margery Clayton had checked out of the hospital, and returned home, Johnny brooded. The best way Roy could describe this new chapter Johnny was in would be impossibly quiet. No more joking, no ranting, no discussing departmental shortcomings, nothing. Everyone who knew Johnny was unnerved by it. Unsure how to help him, they kept out of his way and waited. Even the Phantom took a hiatus.

"Morning Roy." Marco and Mike greeted as they waited for roll call. A couple minutes later Chet sauntered into the bay muttering something about grouchy paramedics.

"Roll call."

51's captain inspected his men as they lined up. Eyes lingered on his young medic. He'd overheard Tom's comment to Roy. John did indeed look like something the cat dragged home. He heard about the incident on the hose tower via Mike. Hank didn't feel the need to have a conversation with him then because Roy had done so. It had been two weeks since the incident. Hank didn't like what was happening with John. He was withdrawing more and more into himself and thought it was time to get involved. After laying out the duty roster for the day, Hank called Johnny into his office closing the door.

Johnny nervously watched it close.

"How are you John?" Hank asked politely, indicating he should sit.

Johnny warily did so, sitting at the edge appearing ready to bolt at any moment.

"Fine Cap something wrong?"

Hank couldn't help make the analogy, as he watched John sit, of a little kid being called into the principles office. A slight grin formed as he took his own seat. For some unknown reason whenever John was called to the office, he automatically questioned whether he'd done something wrong.

"No," he said turning his thoughts back where they should be, "but your exhausted appearance suggests you have not been getting adequate rest."

"It's complicated Cap." Johnny hedged.

"I take that as a yes. Care to enlighten me?"

"Cap if you're worried I can't do my job..." Johnny's attitude turned noticeably sour in a hurry.

"I didn't say anything along those lines John," Hank said frowning.

Klaxons sounded_. "Station 51, Motorcycle accident, on the freeway, at the Main St. Interchange…" _

Both men quickly stood.

The dispatcher's voice faded into the background as Hank said, "We'll finish this conversation later."

The two men stepped out of the office with Hank picking up the station microphone. He didn't wait for Johnny's reply.

"Station 51 KMG 365."

* * *

The unfortunate but conscious motorbike victim needed to be taken to Rampart. He painfully conveyed his tale. After being cut off by a vehicle that just kept going he'd careened toward the guardrail. Forced to lay the bike down to avoid being shot over the handlebars from the impact, he lay pinned underneath his bike and was dragged an additional twelve or so feet along the pavement before coming to a standstill.

The unlucky rider was left with an ugly case of road rash, down the entire length of his back and a broken leg. He also suffered a nasty muffler burn on his broken limb. A bright spot, the man was saved the misery of a concussion or worse. He was wearing a helmet.

As soon as Roy pulled the squad out of the ambulance entrance of Rampart, Johnny mentioned, "I'm thinking of taking time off."

Roy's nod of acknowledgment was followed by the statement, "I was wondering when we'd get around to this."

Johnny glanced out the window as he spoke. "I forced myself to face some hard truths Roy. You were right to tell me I can't keep doing this to myself. I've been wondering how I fooled myself into believing I was okay, that I could handle whatever issues cropped up. The constant battle of suppressing the memories is taking a toll emotionally whether I admit it or not. Everyone has been dancing around my moodiness for weeks now."

This was the most vocal Roy heard his partner in weeks, outside of being on a run, and since there wasn't anything in Johnny statement which required contradiction he asked, "Are you planning on talking with anyone?"

"Eventually but it won't be a professional psychologist."

Roy was acquainted with Johnny's discomfort around anyone claiming to have a psychology background.

"Oh." Roy's answer suggested to Johnny an explanation was in order.

"Roy, growing up on the reservation there was so called professionals who would visit. The sole purpose of the visit was to write statistical reports on how we poor Indians were surviving in a world filled with prejudices and poverty. Everyone who claimed to be a professional told us they had our best interests at heart. If we worked together and took part in their study, we would help improve our conditions. Lemme tells ya, it was crap, all of it. Nothing changed after they left. Their reports didn't help. Poverty and prejudice didn't disappear, and alcohol still flowed. Can ya blame me for not trusting a brain picker as I coin them?"

"Then who are you planning on talking…"

"_Squad 51, child down in the nurse's office, A.C. Middle School…_

"Squad 51 responding."

* * *

The squad was met by Vince, and Matthew Rodriguez, the principle.

"The child is in the nurse's station. He fell asleep after complaining of feeling sick, and we haven't been able to wake him."

Johnny and Roy exchanged looks and switched to full paramedic form. They grabbed their equipment and speedily followed the principle into the building, through the main office and into a connecting side room.

A young boy lay upon a coach, unmoving. A moment of stomach dropping alarm caused Johnny to hesitate.

Sinking to his knees next to the couch, fully engaged, he called. "Ryan, can you hear me?" Ryan didn't move. "Ryan." Johnny reached for his wrist. "Roy, pulse is slow." He placed a nasal cannula in Ryan's nose and set the oxygen level at four liters.

"What happened exactly, Miss?" Setting up the bio-phone, Roy spoke calmly to the excited young women who'd jumped up as they entered the room and stood beside her desk, her face a picture of nervous concern.

"Sheila Banks, I'm an LPN who works part-time for the school system. The boy was in class and complained to the teacher of not feeling well, that he was really tired. The teacher told me he appeared dazed and not very steady on his feet. Other than being pale and sweating slightly his vitals read normal, he does not have a fever. He showed no signs of being unsteady, but he did complain of feeling tired and having a headache. He mentioned he felt sick to his stomach but he didn't want to go home. He was quite vocal about it. I told him to lie on the couch for a little while thinking he may have needed a quiet place to rest. After ten minutes I called to him but he didn't answer. I figured he'd fallen asleep. A few minutes later when I came to check on him, I tried to rouse him, he would wake but fall asleep again. Quite frankly I'm surprised to see him here at all after what's happened. It hasn't been easy for him. kids talk. This isn't the first time he's been to see me for one ailment or another. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

Ignoring her question, he watched as Johnny checked Ryan's pupils for response to light.

"Has anyone contacted the parents? We need parental permission to treat him."

"Mom's on her way." Matthew conveyed.

Frowning Johnny informed them, "Eyes are dilated."

Placing the penlight in his mouth Johnny ran his fingers gently through Ryan's hair. Nothing caught his attention. He didn't find any dark discolorations, any lumps, bumps or depressions. He pulled the penlight from his mouth to recheck Ryan's eyes. Getting the same result as the first time, he placed the penlight in his pocket. Checking his neck for swollen glands and not finding any he proceeded to check for neck rigidity, he found none.

"Ryan," Johnny repeated loudly, twice. Ryan stirred. He fought to open unfocused eyes.

"Hey there sport." Johnny stated gently, "Can you tell me where you are?" He could see the boy fighting to stay awake as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

"School." The sleepy boy stated. "Don't wanna go home."

Johnny began inflating the cuff.

"It's alright Ryan. You're at school in the nurse's office. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Headache. Sleepy."

"Does your stomach hurt?"

"Uh huh."

Johnny took Ryan's pressure. "100/70"

"Did you eat breakfast this morning?" Johnny continued with his questioning, deflating the cuff and removing it from his arm.

"Um... can't remember."

In the background Roy began contact with Rampart_. _"Rampart this is squad 51, do you read?"

After a slight pause, Dr. Early's calm reassuring voice filtered over the radio.

"_Go ahead 51 we read you loud and clear."_

"Rampart we have a male child eleven years of age. Was found unresponsive upon our arrival in the nurse's office at his school. He has since come around with loud verbal command and is complaining of headache with the feeling of nausea. The boy is lethargic. Speech is slurred. Vitals are, pulse is slow, blood pressure, 100/70, pupils show dilation. We've placed him on four liters of oxygen. There is no fever present.

"_51, is the patient currently on any medication?"_

"Ryan," Roy asked. "Did you take anything this morning?"

Struggling to keep his eyes open Ryan replied, "Aspirin outta mom's bathroom," the words running together were hard to understand.

"No, not aspirin." A new voice entered the conversation. Everyone looked up to see Margery Clayton a picture of guilt. "He told me he had a headache this morning but I didn't get around to giving him anything for it. He must have tried to find some on his own." She handed Roy a bottle of what appeared to be regular strength aspirin. He opened the top and tipped the bottle. What fell into his hand wasn't you're usual over the counter headache medication.

"Valium."

Margery nodded. "They were prescribed for my anxiety. I put them in the aspirin bottle thinking to keep my husband from finding them. God, Ryan knows not to go into our bathroom cabinet!"

"Ryan how many did you take?"

"Three." He mumbled closing his eyes.

"Ryan, stay awake for me." Johnny prompted.

"Rampart it appears boy ingested three of the mother's Valium thinking they were aspirin."

"_What's the dosage, 51?"_

"Mrs. Clayton?

"I'm not sure!"

"Wanna sleep… " Ryan mumbled. This time when his eyes closed they didn't reopen at Johnny's urging.

Johnny lifted Ryan's eyelid. "He's out Roy."

"_How long ago was the drug ingested 51?"_

Roy looked to Mrs. Clayton, who was clearly upset now, as she watched her son's unmoving body.

"An hour and a half maybe?" She sounded horrified. "Oh God, oh God, What have I done?"

The woman looked on the verge of collapse.

Sheila stepped in. "Mrs. Clayton why don't you come sit over here so were out of the way." She led the shaking woman to her desk and offered her the chair.

Vince was busy writing in his notebook.

"Rampart patient can not be roused. Dosage of Valium unknown at this time. Mothers states boy took medication at least an hour and a half ago."

"51, monitor breathing closely. Start IV, Normal Saline. Administer 0.01mg Fumazenil for initial dose over 15 seconds. Repeat bolus of 0.01mg at 1 minute intervals up to 1mg. Transport once medication has been administered."

Repeating the orders back, Roy ended the transmission.

"What is it you want to give him?" Margery asked.

"Ma'am because we don't know the exact dose of your medication, we want to use a drug to counteract the Valium in his system." Roy patiently explained. "Do we have you're permission to treat?"

Margery looked over at her son. "Of course, do what you have too."

The ambulance arrived, medication was given and Ryan was transported to Rampart.

* * *

"He's going to be fine" Dixie informed her anxious audience. We contacted your physician Mrs. Clayton, and we obtained the proper dosage. The Fumazenil is working. He'll be monitored overnight but should be able to leave in the morning."

"Thank You." Margery said wilting in her seat. "Can I see him now?"

"Sure, come with me." Dixie prompted.

"Thanks Dix." Johnny said as he stood, not looking at Ryan's mother at all. "Are you ready Roy?"

The paramedics passed a representative for Child Protective Services on the way out the door.

* * *

Johnny lay on his bunk and listened to his friend's playing cards in the kitchen. He'd been invited to play but decided company wasn't something he desired being tired as he was. He closed his eyes and started to relax parts of his body, one section at a time.

Hank came to the dorm to finish the conversation from this morning only to find John sleeping. He quietly left.

_Bright sun-light made him wince, and his head pounded. John woke to find a blanket covering his body. He didn't remember getting up to retrieve one. Slowly he pushed off the covers and sat up. He ached physically, his head felt like it was the size of a watermelon, his mouth was dry as cotton, his stomach rebelled and he smelled bad. _

_He was a mess emotionally, Shannon was gone, he was alone, and nothing would change the feeling of anxiety that fate would come along and snatch even the lightest of happy moments from him. The familiar empty ache threatened to renew his grief. It was early morning but the day for him was already long. He moaned as he raised his hands toward his head, to stop the pounding. _

"_That's what happens when you drink too much."_

_He became instantly still, like a deer caught in the headlight of a passing car._

_His father offered him a cold cloth for his head and something vile looking in a glass. "Drink up. It looks disgusting I know, but it will cure that hangover for sure." John's eyes strayed to the coffee table to find it empty, the bottle of whiskey was gone, the picture of Shannon and his mother rested back on the mantle. Why was his father still here?_

_He took both of the items from his father and drank the noxious looking hangover cure. It tasted bitter and his stomach rolled once the drink hit it. He placed the cold rag to his forehead were he found instant relief._

"_Since you're an expert at it you should know what works right?"_

"_Touché." His father saluted._

"_What are you doing home?"_

"_This is my house J.J. as much as you might wish it otherwise."_

"_You're right about that," he co__uldn't help __adding the verbal dig.__ "Don't call me J.J. you know I can't stand that name."_

_His father ignored him. "Kevin Foster was worried about you. He came to the house after the funeral yesterday and you weren't here. He hunted me down and laid into me. He was worried about your mental state; if you can you believe that." _

"_Why do you even care?"_

"_ J.J. the last time I checked, I was still your father, and when I get told I'm a terrible parent in front of witnesses well...Anyway I'm doing my parental duty and checking up on you."  
_

_"I'm fine as you can see." _

"_Sure you are. That's what I told Kevin. Don't worry about John. He wouldn't do anything foolish."_

_John suddenly became aware something was very very wrong. His stomach violently contracted and he lurched to his feet heading for the bathroom, but not making it. He vomited just shy of the bathrooms entrance. The pains in his stomach felt like his insides were being flayed. Legs unable to support him he dropped to the floor where he curled into a tight ball of pain. "What did you give me?"  
_

_"Hopefully something you'll long remember."_

_"Why?" Johnny sobbed as another sharp ripping pain crawled across his abdomen._

_"So you'll remember not to drink again. So you don't wind up like me."  
_

_

* * *

_

_John jolted awake to find he was still lying on the couch in the living room. It was only a crazy dream. He slowed his breathing which eased the pounding in his head. He searched for the picture he'd had last evening only to find it resting on the coffee table in place of the missing whiskey bottle. A blanket covered him. His father had been here. That would explain the blanket. He slowly lay back and closed his eyes. Why did he even care? _

_

* * *

_

He was being shaken. The dream battered paramedic forced himself to wake.

Mike told him, "I apologize for waking you John, but you have a phone call."

"Okay, thanks Mike." Johnny lay for a moment longer. It was bad enough to suffer one nightmare at a time, now his mind was producing dreams within dreams. The lines between memory and fantasy were starting to blur.

_

* * *

_

"John Gage speaking."

"Mr. Gage, this is Tammy Shultz from Child Protective Services. I have been trying to reach you. I would like to ask you a few questions regarding a child by the name of Ryan Clayton, are you free to meet with me?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes Mr. Gage. I need to clarify a few things before I send in my report to the Brown's attorney. Their court hearing is coming up and Mr. Brown informed me he'd had a conversation with you, regarding his intention of perusing temporary custody of the minor child."

"I can meet with you tomorrow."

"Great. How does 5:00 pm at our offices sound?"

"I'll be there."

_

* * *

_

After his meeting with Ms. Banks, Johnny felt more confident, in light of what had happened recently, the Browns would be rewarded temporary custody of Ryan.

After debating long and hard he picked up pen and paper and wrote to the Foster's. If he was to carry out what he'd planned he needed a connection to home that had been missing for sometime. He wasn't even sure they still resided in the area, but he took the chance. He felt a letter would be easier than picking up the phone after twelve years of absence.

* * *

Two weeks passed.

Hank noticed the tension between his paramedic team had faded. John appeared more at ease then he'd been recently and looked better rested. He even bantered with Chet.

It was the middle of the afternoon and they were all enjoying the quiet interval between runs. It had been a pretty busy morning for both engine and squad. Chet had gone to collect the mail and was now sorting through the stack at the kitchen table.

Chet waved a personal envelope in the air. "Johnny boy has mail. I wonder who could be writing to him from Montana?"

Johnny in his customary place, leaning on the sink counter with a cup of coffee in his hand, stiffened at Chet's announcement. An uneasy expression crossed his face. Slowly he placed his coffee cup on the counter.

Hank noted John's posture. Whatever information rested in the letter his paramedic was expecting, but not looking forward to reading.

"Kelly ya twit. Hand Gage his mail." Hank pushed himself away from the table and headed for his office. Chet handed the letter over.

Johnny gazed at the return address then muttered, "excuse me." Before disappearing into the dorm. Roy watched him go deciding to give him plenty of time to read the letter before following.

"Gee, what's the matter with him now?" Chet pondered.

Mike and Marco exchanged glances. Whatever it was Johnny looked like he was walking to his own execution.

"Hey isn't Montana were Gage is from?" Chet asked, just making the connection. His question remained unanswered.

Johnny walked into the dorm and sat on his bunk staring at the letter he held in his hand. The return address said Kevin Foster. Johnny felt a sudden sadness creep over him, sadness for all the time wasted. After Shannon's death, he never visited the Foster ranch again.

Once he opened what lay his hand there would be no turning back. His heart raced as he opened the correspondence.

* * *

John,

What a surprise to say the least when we received your letter.

Has it really been twelve years Firefly? I remember a lanky lad with a crooked grin.

We lost track of you after you left with your Aunt Rose. I regret that. You always filled our home

with a special presence. I'll forever be thankful Shannon had you in her life. She loved you as her brother.

* * *

The page blurred and he stopped reading for a moment blinking hard. Firefly. Outside of his dreams he hadn't heard Shannon's nickname for him since he left the reservation. When he felt steady again he continued reading.

* * *

You asked a couple of powerfully complicated questions in your letter, John.

I will try and address them for you, but can't guarantee you will like the answers.

Did I know how unstable your father became because of his drinking?

Even after all this time I can tell you, anyone who knew him did. He seemed to change

overnight. I was his closest friend and he wouldn't allow me to help him. He shut out everyone

and everything the day of your mother's funeral. I watched him wither and self-destruct.

Nothing I did made any difference. I knew it was grief, as well as an all consuming self-hatred of his inability to

control what happened. The bond between your parents was something magical. Your father was completely

and utterly destroyed by the loss of your mother.

I hoped given time, he'd move on, but that didn't happen. Instead he turned more to the bottle. His life spiraled out of

control and you paid the price.

When I tried to talk to him about you I was told to mind my own business. It was plain to everyone; he neither

wanted nor would accept anyone's help.

Your other question is much more painful to write about because of my culpability in the matter.

When you started showing up with bruises, I suspected. God help me, I did nothing to confirm

my suspicions. I suppose it was easier to believe in the lie rather than confront an ugly truth.

My inaction prolonged your suffering John, I'm sorry. I know these words are insufficient

in light of the mistreatment you were made to suffer, but it's all I can give to you.

This next bit of information is sensitive in nature as I am aware you've had no contact

with your father for all these years. In any case, I don't feel your aunt would have

shared any of this with you. It may be water under the bridge, but you should be aware your

aunt never approved of your father and blamed him for your mother's death. To his credit it wasn't your father

who mentioned this to me, but Rebecca relaying a conversation she'd had with your aunt.

* * *

The next words leaped off the page.

* * *

Three years after you left, your father remarried.

She's a good woman John and good for your father. Her name is Elizabeth.

She works at the county hospital. Rebecca likes her and they have become friends.

I know you lived through some tough years with your old man but he's different now, changed, almost like he

used to be. I say almost, because there is a sadness in him, a yearning for something he knows he can never have back

again. Why he chose to stay out of your life after he sobered up?

I couldn't begin to tell you, though for your sake I wishI had an answer.

If you really want to know I suppose you can ask him. They still live in the same house.

There is other news I feel you should know, but isn't my place to tell.

From what you've written you chose a fine profession. I'm relieved you didn't let the resentment

of what happened destroy you as it could have. It takes a strong individual to confront the harsh

reality of what you dealt with and turn it into something positive.

I talk to your father now and again. I think, and this is just my impression of things, your father hopes one day

you will return home. I feel this is one reason why he never moved away. The other, because your mother is buried

here.

Find peace John in the knowing. Take care of yourself son and be proud of all you accomplished.

Sincerest regards,

Kevin Foster

* * *

For a long time Johnny sat with the letter resting in his lap not moving. His father was remarried, and sober? One emotion canceled out another and so for Johnny he didn't know what or how to feel. The news was overpowering. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but to receive such a candid tell all letter left him bemused. There would be plenty of time later to sort it all out, so he just sat not feeling anything.

"Does the letter give you the answers you were looking for Junior?" Roy asked as he sat down quietly on his own bunk.

"Some. I don't know how to express what I'm feeling right now."

Johnny made a decision in that moment. A sudden certainty crept into his voice as he looked at Roy. This was his best friend, someone who'd pulled his butt out of the bacon grease more times then he could count. Someone he trusted without thinking about it. In order to help Ryan he needed to help himself first and the only way to do it was to allow someone in.

"Roy 'member the conversation we had where you questioned who I planned on talking too?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I could use some advice." Johnny held out the letter. Roy sucked in his breath. With the simple gesture Johnny was ready to share his painful past.

As he finished reading Roy's heart ached for his best friend, and the young boy he'd been. Shocked to discover Johnny's father still alive Roy wondered how he kept this to himself all these years. The fact his partner survived with his empathy for others still intact was testimony to his willpower. Kevin Foster was right about one thing. Johnny should be proud of how far he'd come.

The black haired paramedic lay back on his bed with his hands clasped behind his head. "It seems my past won't rest, even if I want it too." Johnny commented. "Roy I had a lot of time to think and I'm gonna ask you guys to come over tomorrow evening. I know I've kept everyone at arms length lately, I need my friends to understand why."

"I'm here for you Junior." Roy affirmed.

Johnny glanced at his best friend "You always are." He said simply.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

~Read and review~

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Nine

* * *

The squad was called out twice during the night, but the tired pair managed to squeeze in some shut-eye. By morning, bleary eyed, and running on empty, Johnny went home and immediately headed for bed. Upon waking in the afternoon he felt run down and conscious he had all the earmarks of a cold coming on.

* * *

That evening, he looked at his friends gathered around his living room. When he'd invited them there wasn't any question in his mind of the rightness of it, but now that they were all here, he felt self-conscious and unsure of how to begin. With beverages of choice in hand they waited expectantly, sipping from coffee cups or brews.

As he started speaking Johnny popped the top off a bottle of beer. "I know I haven't been the easiest person to work with lately."

Hank sat on one of Johnny's kitchen chairs, his posture relaxed, his legs stretched out in front of him. "You don't owe us any explanation."

There were collective assurances of, "That's right."

"Each of us here know you are dealing with a personal issue," he continued, "and whatever you choose to share with us tonight in this room does not leave here." He looked pointedly at Chet. We all want to help you if we can. None of us want you to feel uncomfortable in anyway pal."

His earnestness genuine, Johnny felt a lump gather in his throat. He felt lucky and indebted to this man he called captain, mentor and friend. Hank Stanley made himself available day or night and gave all to his men. He owed him and his friends an explanation.

"Cap, I've kept my past to myself for so long, I'm not sure where to begin or how to tell it, but I want, no, I _need _to. I am up for this or I wouldn't have asked you here."

Hank nodded in agreement. John wasn't the type to express his feelings sentimentally, his desire to share his past with each of them showed he trusted them unconditionally. The weight of that trust rested heavily on Hanks shoulders.

Johnny's gaze went from Hanks face to each of his friends. A little tentatively, the paramedic began. "I have lived with a secret, all my adult life. With the exception of Roy," he disclosed, "who just became aware, my old man lives in Montana. I haven't seen or heard from him in twelve years."

Shocked silence descended on the room. Everybody looked at each other.

Chet spoke up, "Why did you tell us after your aunt passed away you had no living family?"

"Because to me, the man who was my father, died along with my mother when I was twelve."

"God, Gage how'd ya ever keep such a secret?"

"It wasn't something I planned on doing Chet. It was just easier for me to never talk about it. When my mother died my father turned to alcohol. I don't think one brings that up in causal conversation. As far as anyone was concerned I was another unfortunate statistic of reservation life. With my mother gone, my father a habitual drunk, I was a sad story. From the age of twelve to sixteen, I was on my own. I learned quickly to stay outta the old man's way. There were lots of times I wasn't fast enough. In those times I bore the marks of his heavy hand."

Johnny took a long pull from the bottle he held. When he declined coffee and reached for a beer, Roy had been surprised. His friend didn't drink as a rule but he could understand his need of something tonight. Watching the reopening of old wounds had Roy suffering right along with him. He felt anger toward a man he never even met and hoped he never did, because he'd be inclined to knock him on his ass.

"I dealt with four years of coming home from school uncertain if he'd be drunk or sober. Sometimes I'd be lucky and he wouldn't be home. If he'd been a functional drunk, I could come to terms with it. Instead, my old man changed when he drank, he became vindictive and mean. Afraid to bring anybody to the house, ashamed for anyone to see my father in such a state, I joined the track team hoping this would keep me away from home as much as possible. It worked for while. I stayed outta his way cuz I never knew what would set him off. It could be a look, a word, an action, so I learned to be invisible, to step lightly so he wouldn't hear."

Hank realized this is where John learned his 'cat' like grace.

"My summers were a little easier," he revealed, "I could stay gone all day hanging out on neighboring property. Our nearest neighbor owned a horse ranch. They had a daughter… Shannon…" Johnny's eyes became suspiciously bright. "We grew up together and our families were close until my mother… passed away. Everything changed then." The yearning and regret couldn't be masked.

"How did you loose your mother?" Marco inquired, and then felt guilty he'd asked, as he watched his friend's actions.

Johnny closed his eyes finishing off his beer. His father's accusatory words resounded through his head. After all this time it still had the power to hurt. When he reopened them he quickly brushed a hand across his watery eyes, centering himself. "I contracted the flu. At first my mother thought I'd gotten the same cold she'd just recovered from. It wasn't a simple cold, I was sick for days and wound up in hospital, I developed acute bronchitis. My mother caught the flu too but in her case pneumonia developed. Her immune system weakened from the previous illness…" Johnny took a deep steadying breath. "My mother had an underlying condition. She suffered from asthma… this compromised her respiratory system, she couldn't fight the pneumonia…" He let his voice trail off. Johnny didn't mention his father's accusation, that he was somehow to blame.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss, Amigo." Marco expressed. Coming from a large family he couldn't imagine growing up without a mother. Having no brothers or sisters, how lonely Johnny must have been.

"It was a long time ago, Marco." Johnny said quietly placing the empty bottle down on the coffee table. He didn't reach for another.

Hanks heart bled for this man. Twelve was young to loose a mother. A mother's influence was important throughout life, but without his mother, his father would have had to fill the gap. As a father, he knew the influence he wielded over his children. They looked to him for leadership, character building, counsel, and care, but most importantly, they wanted to be validated and loved. The man before him didn't receive the validation he so desperately needed. It was amazing John was the gentle person he turned out to be.

"What triggered your recent nightmares?" Mike asked. While his own childhood wasn't peaches and cream, at least he had siblings to commiserate with.

"I've had recurring dreams since I was twelve. Time can distort waking memory, fade the blunt impact of a traumatic event, but we have no control over how our subconscious will revisit such events. For me Mike, my nightmares, are memories." He went on to explain about the night of the drunken driving accident, involving the truck and sedan, and how he thought he'd seen his father in the truck.

Hank was aware John had lived with is aunt for a few years before joining the fire department. He wasn't sure of the age until now. At sixteen he left the reservation and gone to live with her.

"What happened when you were sixteen?" Hank asked squarely.

Roy had to wonder what Cap was up too. He could tell Johnny was uneasy. He watched a host of emotions cross his friends face.

The dark head hung toward the floor. Hank was afraid he'd gone to far and made his man uncomfortable. He was going to offer his apologies when John lifted his head, looked him directly in the eye, and answered. "I lost my best friend and left the reservation to come to LA with my aunt."

Behind his eyes Hank could see anger and loss but something else too, fear of discovery. John wasn't admitting all. Information was being left out of this story. He connected the, _what wasn't being said dots, _and where it led. Misery, loneliness, and confusion all pointed in one direction. There was a complexity of emotions needing to be addressed here, and it left Hank wondering if John even realized what they were. The little boy he'd been needed validation, the teenager needed acceptance, and the young man needed finality so he could begin to heal. There was only one place where he could confront them all, and it wasn't in this room.

Johnny looked away from his captain's intense gaze. _He knows what I'd contemplated_. His commander had an uncanny ability to see deeper into a person than what was showing.

Rattled he veered away from the touchy subject and offered a partial truth instead, "In Native American lore the belief everything we dream has importance is taught at an early age. We are told to pay attention since our ancestors communicate with us through our dreams. We learn to interpret what we see, feel and hear. Sometimes answers to problems lie in dreams of others. My aunt had such a one and showed up on our doorstep two months after I turned sixteen. She told me she kept having a repeated dream that I was to live with her." Johnny looked pensive. "I'd just lost my closest friend, I was struggling to find answers."

For Hank that statement solidified his earlier thoughts.

"I started flirting with danger by hanging with a group of troublemakers. There was a void I was trying to fill, I know that now. My aunt showin' up was the best thing to happen, cuz if I stayed, I'd probably be in jail or worse."

"You're father didn't try and stop you?" Roy questioned finding it strange, even with the problems the man had, that his father would just let him walk out of his life without a word.

Johnny shrugged shaking his head. "My father understood the ways of my mother's people, but it's also hard to to prevent someone from leaving when you're too busy getting drunk."

"He never tried to contact you?"

His voice oozed resentment. "Not a word."

A protective silence permeated the room as each of his friends absorbed his story.

"I'm sorry Johnny." Chet apologized. the words having duel meaning. He was feeling badly. All the times he'd teased his friend about his upbringing, playing jokes, making wisecrack comments, how Gage managed not to take offense and come after him was the miracle here.

Johnny made it clear he wanted no pity from his friends. He finished up, "I may have left the reservation, but I took, self-doubt, fear of rejection, and low self-esteem with me. I battled 'em every day, it took me years to control them. I slowly overcome my fear of rejection. It wasn't easy but I began to trust in others. Feelings of self-doubt were conquered by becoming a paramedic, and I learned to think of myself as a worthy individual more than a failure. Being assigned to this station, helped me, whether you know it or not. It helped me to figure out who I was, and where I was going."

Wow! Roy leaned back into his chair. He scrutinized his friend. He was certain a plan of action had been set in motion tonight. Johnny did nothing half-way. This was the first step in a larger plan and he was curious as to what those plans included.

Hank felt a fatherly protectiveness toward the young man standing before him. When his men hurt, due to physical pain or emotional stress he internalized it and made it his own. He could see this 'talk' had been good for his young friend.

"Gage?"

"Yeah Kelly?"

"Is it safe for the Phantom to come out of hiding?"

"Hey…!" Chet yelled as both Marco and Mike cuffed him upside the head at the same time."

"Cap I hope you saw that." Chet griped rubbing his head.

"Be nice kids." Hank admonished the other two for Chet's benefit. "Remember the keep hands to yourself rule." Hanks eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Thank a bunch Cap." The unhappy Irishman grumbled.

"Kelly," Johnny warned, "If the phantom decides to return just remind him I will give as good as I get."

* * *

Everyone except Roy had already gone and it was around 9:00 pm when Roy commented, "I'd better head for home before Joanne calls. Take care of that cold junior." All evening Johnny had sniffled, and coughed.

"Don't worry, I'm headin' for bed," Johnny's yawn giving credence to his words."I'm beat. Thanks Roy."

"No need to thank me junior…"

The ringing of the telephone stopped him from speaking.

Giving Roy the, _you're in trouble now, _look Johnny headed for the phone thinking it was Joanne. As he reached to pick it up a slight shiver ran through him.

"John Gage speaking."

Roy watched him lean heavily into the counter as color fled his face. Whatever news was being relayed, it wasn't good. Roy sat up straighter.

"When," he heard his partner say rather acidly increasing his unease. Almost a full minute went by before Johnny mumbled, "Thanks Vince." Slowly he replaced the phone in the cradle and stood with his back to Roy. "That son of a…"

"Johnny what's wrong."

Johnny stiffly turned to face his friend. Steel hardened eyes exposed a deep seeded anger. "Rodger Clayton was involved in a a drunken driving accident this evening." Coughing he made his way to the couch to sink wearily into the cushions. "He took out another vehicle, injuring the driver."

"Johnny?"

"He had Ryan in the car with him."

Roy swallowed down the rancid taste of coffee as it rose to his throat. "Is he al…?"

"No." Johnny shook his head, "he suffered internal injuries and is in surgery."

"What about Ryan's mother?"

"She wasn't with them. Rodger Clayton escaped serious injury."

* * *

Roy offered to go with him to Rampart but Johnny went alone. How many times would Ryan have to suffer before something was done to protect him his mind tried to reason. After the latest incident Johnny was sure Child Services would step in, let the kid stay with his aunt and uncle. That didn't happen. He hoped this time the wheels would turn a little more quickly because he if ever ran across the bastard called Rodger Clayton, there was no telling what he'd do.

* * *

He looked around the surgical unit's near empty waiting room, and spied Kevin Brown. A petite looking woman sitting next to him, was probably his wife. Next to his wife sat Margery Clayton, he could tell she'd been medicated.

"Mr. Gage. What are you doing here?" Kevin asked standing up and shaking Johnny's hand. "This is my wife Linda."

"Ma'am," Johnny acknowledged. The woman took his hand. Tears formed but she said nothing. Johnny dropped his gaze from her. In the brief moment of eye contact Johnny witnessed, the woman's pain.

"I was informed Ryan is up in surgery."

"We don't know anything other than the information we were given when we arrived." Kevin told the drained fireman. "He sustained an internal injury of some kind. They suspect a ruptured spleen but they wouldn't know for sure until they actually went in. They took him to surgery thirty minutes ago."

"I'll try and find out anything if I can."

Throughout the conversation Margery Clayton never acknowledged his presence.

As he walked toward the floor's nurse's station he noted the usual bright lights of the hallway had been dimmed for the overnight hours. A hushed atmosphere settled around the ward which Johnny found ironic considering what floor it was. Outside of the emergency room, the surgical floor was always in motion. A cute brown-haired young woman sat behind the counter. She saw Johnny approach.

"Hi Johnny, what brings you to Surgical?"

"Hey Peggy, A young boy was brought in. Ryan Clayton?"

"Yes, poor young man, car accident. Do you know the boy?"

"Yeah, can you get an update for me?" He asked, while trying to suppress his coughing.

"Oh, I'm sorry Johnny. "She looked at the paramedic with sympathy and concern. "I'll try. You'll be in the waiting room?"

He nodded, "Thanks Peg, I owe you one."

"Better control that cough while you are on the floor. Fire Dragon is on shift tonight. She hears you and you're outta here."

Peg referred to the head nurse of the surgical department.

"I'll make sure I stay outta her way."

He wasn't back in the waiting room long when Peggy motioned for him.

She spoke in hushed tones. "They removed part of his spleen. He also suffered a concussion and a tympanic rupture of his left ear. They should be bringing him to recovery about now."

When he left early that morning Ryan was listed as guarded. The exhausted man managed three hours of sleep before heading to work.

* * *

"Johnny, how's the Clayton boy?" Hank asked as a tired looking Gage entered the bay. "Roy mentioned the phone call."

Everyone crowded around.

Johnny explained about Ryan's injuries. For the rest of the day whenever they were at Rampart Johnny would check on Ryan's condition.

Via, Vince, Johnny learned Rodger Clayton had been arrested on a felony charge of 'driving under the influence', had his bail rescinded, and he currently sat awaiting his due process of law, courtesy of the county. This should have made the harassed paramedic feel slightly better but instead it increased his anger toward a man who clearly cared about nothing but himself.

Roy tried engaging Johnny in conversation but as before, his partner chose to close ranks and remain silent.

The wiped out man had no desire for food and didn't even come to the table for dinner that evening, even though Mike had cooked his famous spaghetti. Instead he lay on his bunk and lightly dozed.

Johnny's headache returned that night with a vengeance. He actually felt sick to his stomach and the bright over head lights of the dorm hurt his eyes. The squad was called out around 2:00 am for a woman in premature labor. Once back at the station, and in bed, he tossed and turned, stuffy and uncomfortable.

Klaxons sounded flooding the dorm with bright harsh light two hours later.

"_Station 51, Engine 16, Engine 110, Structure fire. Carson Street Apartment Complex. 500 West Carson St. Building D, 5-0-0 West Carson St. Building D, Time out 05:38_

Everyone jumped up, slipped into bunkers and ran out the door. When Johnny stepped into his boots he nearly fell over as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. He managed to pull up his bunkers and head for the squad.

"Roy already in the squad and waiting for his partner could see how pale and shaky he appeared when got in. "You okay?" He asked handing him the call slip.

"Yeah, just tired."

"You look done in."

As they pulled up on scene they could see Engine 16 already there. The police were busy herding the residents into a group as they stood around in various states of dress, some crying, some expressing anger, and some silent all watching the flames devour their living quarters. The other engines arrived. Shouted orders were being issued, hoses were being pulled, lines charged, and firemen seemed to be everywhere.

The building Super told Hank, "We knocked on doors and told everyone to get out but I don't see Kathy and Ed Miller, the elderly couple in 8D. The old man has Emphysema and won't be able to use the stairs on his own. The apartment is to the left and up one flight closest to the elevator."

"DeSoto, Gage, go." Hank ordered his paramedics.

"Kelly, Lopez, get the inch and half to the second floor."

Placing their air tanks behind their backs, Roy glanced once more at Johnny, who was coughing again.

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I'm fine, let's go."

Once inside the building, they turned left and headed for the stairwell. The smoke was a thin fog on the lower level, but as they reached the second floor it began to thicken considerably, turning from opaque to dark gray. As they arrived at the apartment, just down the hall, ominous smoke rolled, and flames consumed whatever it touched. Both men could feel the heat. They didn't have much time. Knocking loudly, lifting his mask away from his face Roy called out, "Fire department."

The door was opened quickly by a disheveled looking elderly woman. She nearly panicked when she saw the flames. "Please, my husband will need help getting out. He doesn't walk without help."

"Alright ma'am, were going to guide you out now." Johnny soothed. He could see she was terrified. "My partner will help your husband." The smoke was starting to fill the room, the woman began coughing. He told her, "I will carry you out."

"No, I can walk on my own I don't want to be carried."

"We have to move quickly then, Keep my mask over you're face and breathe normally."

Roy was talking with the woman's husband, "Sir, I will carry you out, over my shoulders. We have to go now." Roy explained. "I will have to turn your oxygen off but will replace it with mine. You will have air, and before you know it you'll be outside." Roy placed his air mask over the elder gentleman's face, telling him to breathe as he normally would and turned the valve on the oxygen canister near the couch to the off position. "Ready? Let me do all the work." He then scooped the man up in a fireman's carry."

"Johnny you ready?"

"Right behind you."

Roy took his charge and headed for the stairwell. Marco and Chet were throwing water on the flames and were joined by two others from 110. Johnny moving more slowly due to the elderly woman's pace took a little longer but managed. The smoke started affecting him almost as soon as he stepped into the hallway. The air was hot and breathing became difficult. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs and was aided by one of 16's men his hacking cough was continuous, and he become lightheaded. 16's man relieved the woman of his air mask and told him,"Sounds like you could use some of that." He then guided the woman in the direction of the squad, leaving Johnny on his own.

Uncomfortably hot under his turnout gear, his legs felt rubbery and he faltered. He bent over at the waist, trying to steady himself. His cough harsh and guttural.

He felt a strong hand grip him. "I have you John." Hank told his ailing paramedic, forcing the mask up to his face. "Ate a little smoke did ya?"

The world was sliding toward darkness for Johnny and his legs gave out.

He faintly heard, "Roy!" before he heard nothing.

* * *

"He's coming around."

As awareness and light filtered back into his area of sight, Johnny found himself supine with an oxygen mask over his face. His hand rose to push off the annoying mask and he tried to sit up.

"Hey, hey, not so fast junior. You just lie there and be still." Roy warned, placing the mask back over his nose and mouth.

"Rampart patient has regained consciousness."

"_10-4 51, continue with oxygen therapy and transport." _

"Nobody would have minded if ya left some smoke in the building John," Hank said lightly.

Coughing, his voice husky from the smoke, Johnny pushed the mask up and said, "I knew I should have carried her out."

"Twit." Hank pushed the mask back down.

* * *

"We'll keep him through at least the morning." Mike Morton informed Roy. "I'm waiting for his labs to come back before deciding whether to keep him or send him home. While there is no denying he took some smoke, I don't like what I'm seeing. I sent him for a chest X-ray. He's running a fever of 102. How long has he been sick?

"Just a couple of days. He's been coughing pretty steady."

"Hm, Is that right."

"Is he gonna be okay doc? I know I heard wheezing, but that's …"

"Won't know until I see his X-rays," Morton said in typical Mike Morton fashion.

Marco had driven the squad back to the station since it was close to shift change. The squad was 10-8 until he heard something definite on Johnny anyway. Once the shift changes occurred, Marco agreed to come back for him and take him to his car. Roy went into the waiting room.

* * *

Kelly Brackett found Roy dozing. He shook him lightly. "Roy, can we talk in my office?"

Looking toward the clock Roy discovered it was only 7:30. "Sure." Yawning and rubbing his face, Roy followed Brackett toward his office. "Coffee?" the physician asked as they passed by the nurse's station. Roy declined. Brackett held the office door open for Roy to pass through.

After he seated himself, Brackett said, "Johnny labs showed an elevated white cell count. He's receiving antibiotics before the infection he picked up can turn into pneumonia. He's going to need an inhaler for a couple of days, as wheezing is present." Brackett stopped speaking for a second in contemplation. "Roy, Morton has diagnosed exhaustion in our young friend and I concur. I intend to pull Johnny from the duty roster for as long I feel necessary. With adequate rest, and I stress the word, he'll recover.

"Doc…"

I know Roy. He'll kick and scream I'm sure. Can you give me insight to what's been happening with him lately?"

"Doc as much as I would like to help you, this is Johnny's story to divulge, not mine. I can tell you he's trying to deal with a personal matter. He hasn't been sleeping well, but you already knew this. If you want answers you'll have to ask him. The Clayton boy plays a large part in his current state of mind. Ryan is important to him. He's been checking on his condition throughout the day. I think if you could manage to ease his mind concerning Ryan's condition he'd relax a little." Pausing, "Sorry I can't be of more help."

"It helped Roy, more than you know."

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Ten

* * *

"Before we end this conversation I need to voice a concern. Even though Johnny's moods have been unpredictable his work hasn't been and he was beginning to open up. I feel this decision might cause him to revert back to being withdrawn."

"Roy I appreciate the insight, but Morton diagnosed exhaustion. Taking time off is standard practice. The other alternative Johnny might want to consider, would be to speak with a therapist, voluntarily."

"I already know what his answer will be."

"Unfortunately, so do I."

Brackett could see Roy was beginning to put two and two together. "The last thing I want to do is play hardball Roy, but my job is looking out after both Johnny's physical and psychological welfare, despite himself. If he can't deal with whatever is happening, then I will take measures to see he has help.

* * *

In treatment room two, Morton waited for the eruption of protest which didn't occur. Instead, the man who just received word he'd been placed on leave, and then told he might want to consult with a therapist stated firmly, "Thanks for the suggestion but I'll pass. The real question becomes, what will pulling me from duty prevent?"

"Gage as a paramedic you understand exhaustion can cause an accumulation of problems, but I'll give you a refresher," he said ticking his answers off with his fingers. "Depression, irritability, anger, weakened immune system, slow reaction time, irrational behaviors. Need I go on? You say you have trouble falling asleep, then you don't stay asleep for long. When you are awake, you're tired all the time. What does that suggest to you?"

"I won't argue the point Doc." Coughing, Johnny rubbed his chest, "if I'm not sleeping in general what makes ya think being at home will help? If you're answer is prescribing sleeping pills, forget it. I won't take 'em."

"Anybody ever accuse you of being downright unreasonable?"

"A few…"

"Go home Gage. Chill. Put your feet up. Listen to music. Read a boring book. Whatever it is you do to unwind, do it…"

Sarcastically Johnny said, "It's not like I have any choice in the matter."

"It wasn't Morton's recommendation you take time off." Brackett said coming into the room. "It was mine. I won't allow one of my paramedics to work when continuously exhausted."

Flippantly the aggravated paramedic remarked, "Being tired is a job description."

"Excuse me gentlemen," Morton interrupted. "If you don't need me Kel, I have patients to see," turning toward the door, "I'm sorry Gage." He sidestepped his way around Roy who entered.

Johnny immediately rounded on him. "I suppose you agreed that I be pulled from duty?"

Roy stopped his advance into the room, uncomfortable. Johnny's anger wasn't explosive like he was used to dealing with, but intense.

"Believe it or not Junior I happened to disagree on this one." Changing the subject he continued, "When you're ready Marco is waiting to take us back to the station. We'll be in the lobby." Without another word he left.

Brackett was surprised to see Roy exit the room.

The doctor's demeanor changed to all business. "Your partner tried persuading me that this wasn't the right course of action Johnny, so go easy on him. Your labs are back. The smoke inhalation is mild. Your throat may feel irritated for a couple of days. The brief loss of consciousness you experienced resulted from a combination of factors. Your respiratory system being compromised from the infection, the smoke you inhaled and your exhaustion. Depending on how well you respond to the round of antibiotics, and the amount of rest you manage, I will revisit my decision in ten days. I'm sorry to have to pull you from duty Johnny. The line of work you're in demands the utmost mental and physical alertness. You're flirting with unpredictable consequences when you mix in exhaustion. My sole concern as a physician is you're well being."

"You already made the call Doc. I've been placed on sick leave. Am I free to go?"

Kelly wasn't quite sure what to make of this Gage sitting in front of him. You couldn't miss his anger, but there wasn't any arguing which in itself raised a caution flag.

"Since I've known you, you have taken the, _I can handle it myself _approach whenever personal problems have arisen. While I think this is highly commendable, there are times when the process can be much less painful if you reach out for help. You have allowed yourself to become personally involved with a young patient's problems and I suspect there's a root cause at work. If you'd like to discuss anything with me, I'm here to listen as your friend."

He stopped speaking giving Johnny time to process and answer. The stubborn set of the other man's jaw told Kelly this wasn't the day John would do any confiding. Disappointed he said, "Alright, lets discuss the young man up in pediatrics..."

* * *

Once he left the ER the frustrated paramedic walked toward the elevator passing his co-workers who were waiting."I'm headed up to peds. I'll be back down in a minute." He didn't stop to hear any acknowledgment but continued into the elevator.

He stopped in front of Ryan's hospital room and looked through the small window located in the door. He didn't go in. Ryan was sleeping.

Unlike other rooms in the hospital with their sterile surroundings, pediatric rooms were painted in cheery blue or light green, with curtains at the windows. Some of the rooms even had murals painted on the walls depicting swimming fish, or jungle animals. This particular room was closest to the nurses station and decorated plainly. There was a small chest of draws against one wall and there were no curtains at the window. Children who had surgery and needed extra care where brought here.

Johnny swallowed hard, as he fought down the sudden emotion threatening to choke him. Ryan shouldn't be in here!

With both side rails raised, an IV attached to his thin arm, and a light blanket covering his slender frame, what stood out for the man looking through the glass was how small and fragile Ryan appeared. There were a few other things within Johnny's sight adding to the perception. The catheter line, the heart monitor blipping in the background and the oxygen being delivered via nasal cannula.

He focused on Ryan's mother curled up in a chair next to the bed, resting as well, her hand holding her son's. For some reason this sight made him angry. Where was she in all of this? Having seen enough he turned and headed toward the elevator to take him back downstairs.

* * *

The short ride from hospital to station was made in silence. Marco glanced in the review mirror and saw a tired, ailing, and downcast shift-mate. Eyes turning to the man in the passenger seat, he saw a troubled expression on Roy's face. This wasn't good. What was going on? He couldn't get Roy to say anything at the hospital.

Once at the station Johnny politely thanked Marco for the ride and immediately walked inside to collect his things. He ignored his station-mates calls of greeting. He changed quickly and was headed back out the door.

"Hold up Johnny." Roy called catching up to him. He watched his friend fish the keys to his vehicle out of his front jean pocket. Coughing on and off and without any animation to his words the worn down paramedic said, "Don't worry about it Roy, go home. I'll talk with ya later."

Marco clueless as to what just happened inquired, "Roy?" as he watched his friend drive away.

Sighing the senior paramedic filled him in, "Johnny's been placed on sick leave until further notice.

A look of confusion marred Marco's face. "How can this be good for Johnny? The last thing he needs is to be alone."

"I have a feeling you may be right." He agreed.

* * *

The word miserable couldn't adequately describe how Johnny felt. His chest was sore from the persistent coughing. He still had a fever-headache and the hours crept by. He tried to read but couldn't concentrate. He tried to sleep but remained wide eyed even though his body wasn't. He had no appetite. Nothing he attempted helped relieve his boredom. This was day one of his ordered exile.

The second day proved longer than the first and just as repetitious as the day before, with an added bonus. The phone rang on and off. His friends were checking up on him, wanting to keep him company. He held them off.

His coughing eased by the third day and he knew the antibiotic was working. Roy called and the two chatted for awhile. Pete MacDonald from 45 was filling in for him and Chris and Jen wanted their Uncle johnny to visit this weekend. While he maintained a normal mood while talking with his partner, as soon as the the conversation ended his mood slid.

The nights were the hardest of all. He still wasn't sleeping for long stretches.

The fourth day of his enforced leave, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He had to get out of the apartment for a while. He dragged his tired body to the corner market for milk since he'd run out. Back at his apartment he gathered up his dirty laundry and headed for the laundry mat. No one he knew was using the facility and the chore didn't take very long. Before noon he was back at the apartment complex. He grabbed his mail thumbing through it as he walked. Suddenly his body stilled at the sight of a familiar address on a personal envelope. He stared at the letter in his hand a moment, before he angrily stuffed it on the bottom of the pile unopened. He threw the whole pile on the kitchen counter once he came inside. He rang the hospital to get an update on Ryan. The nurse on the other end informed him Ryan had been upgraded from guarded to stable condition. This good news had no effect on his strange mood. His mind kept returning to the unopened letter on his counter. He purposely ignored it until evening. When he did finally open it, his mood took a dangerous nose dive.

If what he held in his hands was accurate, and there wasn't reason to believe otherwise, the woman whom Johnny called aunt, trusted, and loved dearly, had kept secrets. The jarring of the phone didn't phase him. It went unanswered.

* * *

Roy hung up the phone, frustrated.

"No answer?" Mike asked.

"No."

"You said you talked with him yesterday Roy. He told he was feeling better. You don't believe him?"

"No, it isn't that, it just something I can't put my finger on…"

"Why don't you swing by between runs?"

"No I think I have a better Idea," he said picking up the phone again.

* * *

The clock on the wall was crawling toward 7:30 pm. Weary in spirit and drained in body, He lay on the sofa his mind in turmoil. He'd been trying to reason out information that defied explanation. He rubbed his gritty eyes. He'd averaged three hours of sleep per night these past three days. He was done in. He was beginning to think he should not have been so quick to decline the prescription for the sedative Brackett tried giving him.

Something that helped him through difficult periods was meditation, he attempted this but couldn't achieve the harmony needed to clear his mind.

As evening progressed he began to feel isolated. The empty hollow ache he'd long suppressed resurfaced. He had the phone in his hand to call his best friend but put it down. What would he say?

He could use a good stiff drink, he decided. Beer wouldn't cut it tonight. He opened one of the kitchen cabinets, examining its contents for a long moment, before deciding to take the bottle down. What he held was a full bottle of Tennessee whiskey. He never touched the stuff. The bottle represented his past. For an instant he thought about putting it back. Tonight his mood ignored his aversion to it. Tonight he didn't give a damn.

Grabbing a glass he picked up the bottle and carried it over to the couch. He poured himself a generous amount. Raising the nearly three quarter full cocktail glass in mock salute to himself, he downed its contents, making a face as it burned his already sore throat. A blaze of fire hit bottom. He poured another… determined to sleep tonight.

The phone rang, and like so many times already, he ignored it.

He turned on the radio, skimming through the stations until Crimson And Clover caught his attention. Johnny leaned back into the coach, letting the music flow over him. He began to relax as the alcohol gave him a heady buzz. His aim was to become numb. Johnny sat with bottle and glass achieving just that.

He became gradually aware someone was knocking at his door. He let whoever it was knock, but soon it turned into persistent rapping. Someone was not going away.

Turning the radio off, he unsteadily made his way to his front entrance and flung open the door. A delighted grin crossed his face when he saw who stood on the other side.

"Hiya Dix." Johnny said rather loudly.

Dixie was taken aback by the sight of John Gage in his cups, but being able to deal quickly with changeable situations, covered her surprise.

"Looks like someone started a party without me. You gonna invite me in?"

"Come _on_ in." He offered, gallantly sweeping his hand in front of him in a charming manner. She smiled as she stepped in and closed the door. He moved away, walking crookedly as he headed for the sofa. He flopped down upon it.

"Help _yousef._ Johnny attempted, indicating the half empty bottle. Her eyes rose at the sight of what he'd been drinking. He despised this stuff. He wasn't a teetotaler by any means, but whiskey straight up? Things were worse then she thought.

She kept her voice neutral. "Special occasion?" Placing her purse and car keys on the table next to the phone, she went into the kitchen and selected a clean glass.

He waited for her to sit before he answered, his words slurred. "_Discovering _family secrets."

"Family secrets?"

"A _whopper_."

She could tell he was running on nothing. When Roy called her this evening she'd agreed to come by. She was glad it hadn't been Roy. Something told her Johnny would not have been receptive to his friend tonight, not in this mood. He looked awful. By his appearance he hadn't slept much, he hadn't shaved lately, and she'd wondered just how much food he'd consumed. She poured herself a drink to oblige her potted friend.

Attempting to pour another for himself, Johnny missed the glass completely, sloshing it on the glass table top. She reached out and steadied his hand.

She wore a frown of concern. "How many of these have you had?"

"Not enough." He said grinning achieving the goal of pouring his drink.

"It will be come morning." She warned.

"To you Dixie" he said raising his glass in acknowledgment an alluring smile lighting his face.

"Muzzletoff." She offered sipping her drink, eying him over the rim of her glass. He was very drunk. What had set him off?

"In all seriousness Johnny, this isn't you. I have never seen you drink like this. Can I ask why?"

He tipped his glass and tossed back the liquid contents.

In lightening quick fashion his mood switched from playful to serious. Waving a hand in the air, his words slow and deliberate. "Told you. Secrets_. An__d_...to make myself...pass out.

"You're well on your way my friend."

Why are _you _here?" He challenged.

"Do I need a reason Johnny? I wanted to see for myself how you were feeling."

He chuckled. "_Okay_." He grinned, "I'm feelin'_ jus_ _fine_."

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"Um…" she could see him thinking about it his face screwed up in an exaggerated show of concentration. "Nope." He shook his head "Whoa." The room was spinning.

"I can make you something to eat?"

"Not hungry." He sat back and looked at her with expressive brown eyes. Her breath left her in a rush. His pain was a physical slap. It was raw and unguarded in his exposed emotional state.

Resignedly he told her, "I'm _jus…_worn-out…don't wanna hafta think." He closed his eyes. He was fading fast.

Dixie encouraged softly. "Something happened Johnny. Share it with me."

"My..." he began only to change his mind in mid sentence. "Dix?" His eyes closed. He forced them open.

She could see he wasn't going to last much longer when he slumped further down into the couch.

"What is it?"

"Don't think bad...of me."

"Never happen handsome. Why don't you close your eyes?" She suggested.

He complied. "Am tired_,"_ Johnny said in a war worn voice his glazed eyes reopened and beseeched hers, "Don't wanna be alone…" before they slid closed again.

Dixie's heart melted as she brushed the hair from his face. "You're not alone tiger. I'll be here."

"Kay." He mumbled. His eyes opened and closed a couple more times fighting the inevitable, but soon he succumbed to the alcohol's sedative effect. His face smoothed out as he relaxed in sleep.

A troubled kid came to mind as she positioned his unresisting body onto his side, stretching his legs out upon the sofa. Sliding one of the sofa's pillows under his dark head, she went into his bedroom and pulled the blanket off his bed. Once he was covered she cleaned up the mess he'd made and put the bottle and glasses on the kitchen counter. It was then she saw the letter with the Montana address. The contents were out on the table.

"Johnny! No wonder you went off the deep end." She placed the items back in the envelope and headed for the phone.

* * *

_The sun was a giant ball of bright orange light as it slowly sank toward the horizon. The twirling ribbons of colorful flame it produced as it descended was lost on the twelve year old who sat alone in an old tire swing. The shadows lengthened as the early summer evening advanced, bringing with it the dance of the fireflies. As a rule John would watch in rapt attention wearing a smile of wonder. Instead a tragic sob escaped him, as his heart fractured with the news his mother was dead._

_The day of the funeral lasted an eternity. A Shaman was present at the ceremony, accompanied by his Aunt Rose. He stood by his father's side, tears dripping endlessly down his face, while his father remained dry eyed and stern. After leaving the cemetery, the countless stream of people coming into the house bringing with them food, drink, and meaningless words of comfort, became too much for the twelve year old. He needed to escape. He walked off quickly and made his way to the Foster ranch. They were all at his house, it wouldn't be long before they missed him.  
_

_A couple of ranch hands were present in the stables, but since they knew who he was and that he had permission to ride whenever he wanted, none questioned him. He led his favorite horse from the barn, a two year old brown male appaloosa, saddled and ready to be ridden. He had a fondness for this horse because he'd named him. An area of white spread across the appaloosa's rump, and extended down his left flank, where it joined his underbelly and dotted one of his legs. Another narrow band streaked downward, from forehead to nose, flaring outward at the bottom. The whole effect created the illusion of melting snow clinging desperately to a rocky outcropping in spring. _

_John mounted, quick and sure. He walked Snow Patch at first but as soon as he was out in the open field he let the horse run. The powerful Stallion's muscles working under him provided a comfort. At least this was a familiar feeling. The exhilarating freedom he generally achieved during a ride didn't make the horrible empty ache go away. He knew with finality nothing would take it away. His mother was gone, and with her, his childhood. He rode for a while longer, and as sadly as he left the stables he returned._

_John led Snow Patch to the water trough. He rubbed down the lathered animal and brushed him until his coat shone. He couldn't stay any longer or they would send people out looking for him. John forced himself to return home._

_His father was good and angry not to mention drunk, when he arrived and sending people out of the house._

"_Where have you been?" He demanded. "People have been looking for you."_

"_I…I needed some time to myself."_

"_Don't sass me boy!"_

_"Leave the boy alone." His aunt intervened stepping in-between his father and himself._

"_John." Kevin Foster approached his good friend. "Why don't you lie down for a while?"_

"_I don't need advice from you. I would like to be left alone. Everybody just go!"_

"_Pop!" _

_When nobody moved he repeated his demand. "I said leave!"_

_All complied, shaking their heads sadly. _

"_I'll stop by tomorrow John." Kevin told him, his words falling on deaf ears._

"_Keep you're sympathy for someone who wants it."_

"_I know you're hurting…"_

"_You don't know a damn thing."_

"_John, are you going to be okay?" Shannon asked her eyes filled with tears as she saw his look of deep sadness._

_Young John shrugged. Shannon's mother whispered in his ear, "If you need anything you come to us." She encircled him in a tight tearful embrace._

_The house was finally quiet. He helped his aunt put away the mountains __of __left over__ food, and cleaned up. He worked around his father who remained at the kitchen table a bottle of whiskey in front of him, staring at nothing while pointedly ignoring him. _

_Later that day his aunt informed him she was leaving. Standing at the door she pressed something into his hand. "When you feel alone, remember you are not. The spirit of your mother now watches over you. She rests here," His aunt touched his chest over his heart. "When you are still enough you will hear her voice." With that his Aunt Rose left for LA._

_When he looked to see what it was she'd given him, it was picture of his mother and overhead in majestic flight, was an eagle._

_

* * *

_

Dixie watched Johnny sleep. It wasn't a deep sleep you'd expect after the alcohol he consumed. His sleep was restless, his body constantly moving. He mumbled now and again.

"Sorry you're theory didn't work." She whispered.

There was a light tap on the door. Dixie went and opened it. "Thanks for coming. I didn't feel he should be left alone until he wakes up. He'll probably be sick when he comes around."

"I'll make sure he's okay."

"I know." Gathering her things she gave Johnny one last look and headed out the door. He was in good hands.

Hank looked to the young man sleeping on the couch. He'd certainly pay the price for this folly come morning.

He spied the bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the counter when he walked into the kitchen. Phew, that stuff would tear you up. Hank looked around for a small bucket, finding one in a closet which held cleaning supplies. Going back into the living room he placed it on the floor closest to where Johnny's head lay. He then roamed around looking for a blanket. Finally locating one, he moved back to the living room, wrapped his body in the blanket and sat in the armchair, next to the coach. It was 11:30. With any luck John would make it till morning without being sick.

* * *

The feeling he was about to upchuck forced him wake. Johnny lay their for a moment trying to remember where he was and why. The slightest movement made his stomach churn and his head felt like he'd been exposed to a toxic chemical.

"If you're going to be sick there's a bucket right in front of you."

Johnny moved in startled surprise and his stomach tripled twisted sending him hanging off the side, retching. A strong hand held his head in place until he was done.

He moaned in abject misery as his stomach ceased its contractions and he could once again lay back. A cool cloth was placed against his forehead. "This will help a little."

"What are you doing here Cap?" Johnny asked too sick to be mortified or angry.

"Dixie McCall called me. I'm here making sure you live to tell the tale, considering you tried to drown yourself in Jack."

Moaning again and closing his eyes Johnny admitted, "not the smartest thing I've ever done myself.'

"As long as you know it."

"_Oh man_." He said as he raised himself slowly into a sitting position. The room spun. His hands shook. He cradled his head within his hands for a time, before he inched his way to a standing position, a little unsteadily.

"If I'm not back in ten, send out the posse," He tried joking. He was still feeling a little drunk as he painfully shuffled his way to the bathroom, clutching the bucket, heaving most of the way.

Half an hour later Hank watched a steadier John, walk back into the living room. He had showered and though he still had a pasty appearance he walked in a straight line.

Johnny's throat felt raw from heaving and his stomach was still playing games but it was now manageable. "The wonders of Alka Seltzer and hot water," he commented in a soft voice sitting gingerly on the couch wrapping himself in the blanket.

Hank handed Johnny some plain crackers. "Eat these they will help."

Johnny took the offered food. Cap…I…don't know what to say. I'm sorry if I caused you…"

"John there is no need for apologies. Listen, everyone has their limits. Sometimes we do things we rationally would never consider doing. For you a bottle of Jack filled the bill. I'm not here to lecture you. I'm here because a friend needed help.

Johnny's eyes closed and rubbed his head as he spoke. "Cap, I thought I'd knew what I wanted to do, I had it all figured out, until I received a letter from home."

"Want to talk about what's in the letter?"

"I'm still trying to process it myself Cap."

"Fair enough but band-aid fixes will only work for so long."

"I know what I'll have to do." Rubbing his head he looked to Hank. "I need your insight Cap."

The effect the statement had on the adviser was notable. Hank inhaled deeply and let it out. Running his hand over the stubble on his chin he contemplated an answer. "John I won't tell you what to do. You and only you can make those choices. I will tell you the challenge you face while daunting is not insurmountable. Think on this, don't you owe it to yourself to see this through to a conclusion? You have a chance to get answers. Some of us don't ever get that kind of second opportunity." When Hank finished, he stood up, yawning. "Are you going to be okay alone?"

"Yeah."

"I'm heading home to shower before heading to work. John, if you need anything you call. Okay?"

"I owe you Cap."

"No you don't owe me anything. I'm glad Dixie called me."

"God, I owe her such an apology." His hands running through his wet hair.

"She understands believe me, and she told me you were sweet as a kitten."

"A kitten? I'll never be able to look her in the eyes again. Johnny moaned.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Eleven

* * *

_The weeping of a child drove him on. The red beast had broken into the room and if he didn't find the child now he wouldn't make it._

"_Help me!" he heard. "Help me."_

"_Keep calling out." The paramedic shouted. He looked under the bed, and in the closet but the child wasn't in the room. _

_"He's got to be here somewhere Roy!"  
_

"_Please." The child coughing now. "Find me." _

"_Johnny we have to get outta here." Roy was pulling on him."There's no one here."  
_

"_I can't leave, not until we find him." _

"_Help me!" the boy was screaming. The fire was breaking out all round them, weaving and advancing in a macabre victory dance._

_Roy shouted, "Johnny there's no more time!"_

_"Don't leave me please! the pitiful shout ended abruptly.  
_

"_God Roy I can't...move." _

_ His Partner grabbed him and pushed him forcefully toward the door._"_I won't leave you behind! It's over."_

"_I won't fail another child." Breaking free from his partner's steal grip he ran straight into the arms of the flames._

_

* * *

_

Coming awake with pounding heart Johnny sat up. "Jeeze," he mumbled. Breathing hard he was covered in sweat as if he'd been running a long distance. He looked to the clock on the bedside table. It told him it was after one in the afternoon. He'd been asleep since early this morning, the longest stretch of sleep he'd gotten in days. As his breathing returned to normal the last vestiges of his dream fled, taking with it his confusion.

He felt improved, his throbbing head and queasy stomach had diminished in severity and he could actually think about eating. He got up and padded into the kitchen where he put on a pot of coffee and fixed a couple of sandwiches. As he ate the sandwiches and drank his coffee he tried piecing together the details of last night. He had difficulty recalling some of the events. He had drank himself under the table. Dixie had shown up at some point. He remembered talking with her and then nothing until he woke up feeling sick. He called her to apologize.

"I was glad to have helped." Dixie wasn't the type to censure without just cause.

"I take it you couldn't avoid seeing what set me off?"

"I saw it Johnny. If you're worried Hank did, he didn't. I tucked the letter away before he arrived. When you are ready to talk, listening is my specialty."

Johnny had to agree with her. A compassionate listener and no gossip monger Ramparts head ER nurse had proved herself more than once in this area.

"I'm being paged I have to go," she told him. "Take care of yourself Johnny, I mean it. Don't make me have to come after you." Johnny heard the affection in her tone.

Wearing a-half grin he hung up the phone. Walking into the kitchen he spied the bundle of mail she'd neatly placed on the counter. His grin faded. The letter had been sent to the bottom of the pile.

He picked up the correspondence. When he'd first viewed them, he'd been rendered vulnerable and sideswiped by the information. It had sent him into a downward spiral.

This wasn't any easier reading the second time around, but his emotions were held in check.

There were three separate pieces of information.

* * *

The first, an apparent accident his father had been involved in. He felt detached, while reading it, like he would for any individual he didn't know.

_Man 51, injured in forklift accident._

_The incident occurred at the Construction Supply Depot, on West Central Street in Browning. Mr. John Gage, 51 was injured when a forklift, being operated by Jamie Lee Beaver 22, accidentally rammed a pallet full of stacked lumber. Witnesses who saw the accident reported the stack started to lean. Mr. Gage shoved a customer, Walter Redcap, 45, to safety seconds before the stack collapsed, trapping him. It took rescue personal better part of an hour to free him. Gage was taken by ambulance to PHS Indian Hospital in Browning, where his condition is listed as critical. _

**

* * *

**

This second one made him angry.

He unfolded a yellowed piece of paper. It was addressed to him in a very unstable hand. The handwriting belonged to his father.

_John_

_I don't know if you'll ever read this. There's a chance I won't make it. I wanted to write this, my confession. You have never been far from my thoughts._

_The shame, regret, and remorse I carry are for a son no longer available to me. Before I meet with the maker or the devil, I wanted you _

_to know. I have never forgiven myself for having failed at being the father I promised your dying mother I would be. I had a chance…_

A dark rust colored blotch filled up the lower half corner obscuring the lettering and prevented further reading. His father thought he lay dying and had written it for him. He couldn't feel anything for this confession, but anger. The harsh treatment he'd suffered at the hands of this man, the verbal abuse, and emotional stripping wouldn't be wiped away because of one letter.

* * *

The third is what emotionally flattened him.

The last bits of paper lay within. He shook them out of the envelope.

Birth announcement – a girl Lisa Grace, born to Elizabeth and John Gage, of Browning, April 24.

A note written by a child simply stated.

_Don't be mad at me please! I overheard mommy and daddy talking about you and why you'd written a letter to Mr. Foster. __I've known about you since I was old enough to walk. I'm eight years old now and want to meet my brother. LGG_

_

* * *

_

The knowledge he had a sister eight years old and named for his mother had him grabbing the bottle of whiskey last night. A baby sister! There, was another Gage. At odds with the contradictory feelings surfacing he'd wanted to drown them. He'd done a pretty decent job too, only it didn't last and didn't change a thing.

He placed the items back in the envelope. He knew what had to be done.

* * *

On Saturday needing company and Roy's down-to-earth counsel, Johnny decided to take Roy up on his suggestion to visit. He was currently lounging in a deck chair with Jennifer seated close by occupied with a doll she'd brought outside with her. He felt relaxed, almost to the point of drowsiness. Roy sat lounging in another chair sipping iced tea and listening to his daughter talk to her doll. She stopped suddenly.

"Uncle Johnny?" Jennifer solemnly looked at him, "Daddy says you're not okay, you need to..to..." She looked to her father her lips puckered. "Daddy what was the word?"

Johnny glanced at Roy when she said this. His friends face was slowly turning red. "Ah, the word is _unwind_ sweetheart."

"Thanks Daddy."

"I know some'em that will help you?" a knowing look crossing her little face.

"What is it?" Johnny indulged her.

"You could tell Chris and me some of your cool stories, cuz it will help you to unwind, like Daddy said… _and," _she dragged out the word taking a deep breath and blew it out dramatically, "you are the best story teller ever!"

"Best story teller _ever_?" He repeated smiling, noting the way her head tilted sideways wearing a cajoling smile.

"You know Roy. Her future husband doesn't stand a chance."

His friend chuckled as he watched his partner nod in agreement to Jen's suggestion.

"Thanks Uncle Johnny!" she squealed. "I'll go find Chris." She rushed over, giving him a quick hug before running into the house calling for her brother.

From where I sit," Roy commented a smirk on his face, "neither do you."

* * *

Monday arrived and Johnny found himself in Hanks office. He'd gone early just after the shift change so he'd have time to talk with him. His decision made, it became a matter of letting the proper people know.

John? What brings you in?" Hank a little surprised to see him, watched as Johnny closed the door.

"Cap. I will be requesting time off."

"Oh?"

Johnny pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. "I have already shown this to Roy. We discussed it in length." He laid the envelope in front of his captain.

"What's this?"

"The reason you had to play nursemaid to me." Johnny said seriously.

"Are you sure you want me to know?"

"I'm sure."

Hank began reading. Johnny could tell by the varied facial expressions just what his captain was thinking.

Hanks eyes rose when he came to the birth announcement. Once done, he slid everything toward Johnny and he leaned back in his chair with his arms cradling the back of his head. "This changes the picture quite a bit I'd say."

"I'm still trying to process it all. I have a sister who I am twenty years older than. Kinda blows my mind."

"Young she is but you are her brother. You're going back?"

"She has the right to know who I am."

"I have to ask you John. Are you up for this?"

"It's not a question of whether I am or not. It just is."

Nodding, "When did you want to leave?" Hank inquired.

"As soon as I can clear it with headquarters."

"I'll get the paperwork rolling then." Hank stood up. "If you want company, I have some leave coming."

"I appreciate the offer Cap. Roy offered too, but this is one trip I need to take alone."

When Johnny stepped out of the office, he was hailed by his shift-mates, inviting him to have some coffee. Hank smiled. No matter the outcome of John's trip to Montana he knew he'd have the support needed when he returned home.

* * *

After clearing his travel plans with Brackett, who advised him to make frequent stops and sleep overnight in a hotel or motel, no camping, Johnny waited for headquarters to approve his personal leave.

After four days, a record for headquarters, his request for leave was granted.

* * *

It seemed a lifetime ago when he'd mistakenly, for a brief moment, thought he saw his father at an accident scene. In reality it was a couple of months. Now he found himself in the last place he'd ever imagined returning too, his childhood home. The roughly nineteen hour trip left him road weary. He'd stopped at a motel after twelve hours of driving as advised, his reserves depleted. After eating a hearty breakfast the next morning he was off again.

A little over seven hours later he reached his destination. Situated in the northwestern part of the state the reservation skirted the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains and encompassed one-and-a-half million acres. It was beautiful country. It's neighbor Canada, bordered the land to the north, and Glacier National Park, to the west. This sacred country belonged to the (_Siksikáwa_) Blackfoot people. They were his mother's people, and his.

He hadn't envisioned this scenario into his life plans, but fate, the powers that be, a higher authority, God, a scared force, whatever you chose to call it, had him sitting in his car more than one thousand miles from where he now called home.

He hadn't informed anyone here he was coming.

He sat in the vehicle for a time, wondering if this had been a good idea. When he felt ready, taking a deep calming breath he exited. As soon as he stepped out, the cool refreshing air surrounded him. He'd forgotten the temperatures would barely reach into the 70's this early in summer, the weather here markedly different than what he'd become accustomed too.

He stood looking over the house where he'd spent his youth. No longer seeing it through his sixteen year old eyes, everything appeared smaller and older. The house hadn't been neglected, but the exterior paint was faded giving it a tired appearance.

Some things were new. Many of the older tree's that had graced the front yard were now gone, to make room for a wooden ramp connected to a front porch. Another room had been added to the house too. His gaze swept the entire yard, eyes resting on the tire swing still there after twelve years. His mind flashed to a cherished memory.

* * *

"_Mama, will you tell me my favorite story? You know, the one grandmother used to tell?"_

"_You're Grandmother told many stories John and you have so many favorites, you'll have to remind me." A teasing gleam shone from her eyes as his mother looked at him in expectation._

"_Mama you know." John said giving his mother a pouting lip only to grin when he realized he was being teased._

_His mother sat on the swing with him, her legs stretched out across its expanse. He sat on the other side with his legs resting over hers. They gently moved back and forth under the canopy of the massive oak tree. It was an early Saturday afternoon, the birds twittered from its highest branches, as the late June breeze gently ruffled their hair. His mother's laughter sounded as she playfully tickled him._

"_Hold it and smile you two, I want this picture to last throughout the ages," his father told them, camera in hand._

_After he'd captured the moment on film Johnny's mother told him, "I will tell you the story of Water Spirit's gift of Horses, but only if you promise to have me tell it just once." Johnny's head bobbed eagerly, settling himself to listen. His mother had a way of telling a story which transported the listener into the legend. The swing continued its gentle motion as she began her narration._

"_In the days before horses a poor orphan boy lived among the Blackfoot. Because he was so poor he knew that he could never obtain the things he wanted without the secret power of the gods. One day he left his camp to seek a vision that would tell him what he must do. He slept alone on a high mountain, he prayed near some great rocks, he fasted beside a river, but no vision came to him, no voice spoke to him. He traveled beyond the Sweetgrass Hills to a large lake, and because no sign of any kind had come to him he bowed down and wept."_

"_In that lake lived a powerful Water Spirit, a very old man, and he heard the crying of the poor orphan boy. The Water Spirit sent his young son to find the boy and ask why he was crying. The son went to the weeping boy and told him that his father who lived in the lake wished to see him."_

_"But how can I go to him if he lives under the lake?" the poor boy asked._

_"Hold on to my shoulders and close your eyes," replied the Water Spirit's son. "Don't look until I tell you to do so."_

"_They started into the water. As they moved along, the Water Spirit's son said to the boy: "My father will offer you your choice of the animals in this lake. When he does so, be sure to choose the oldest mallard of the ducks and all its young ones."_

"_As soon as they reached the underwater lodge of the Water Spirit, the son told the boy to open his eyes. He did so, and found himself standing before an old man with long white hair. "Sit beside me," the Water Spirit said, and then asked: "My boy, why do you come to this lake crying?"_

_"I am a poor orphan," the boy replied. "I left my camp to search for secret powers so that I may be able to make my way in the world."_

_"Perhaps I can help you," the Water Spirit said. "You have seen all the animals in this lake. They are mine to give to whom I wish. What is your choice?"_

_Remembering the advice of the Water Spirit's son, the boy replied: "I should thank you for the oldest mallard of the ducks and all its young ones."_

_"Don't take that one," the Water Spirit said, shaking his head. "It is old and of no value."_

"_But the boy insisted. Four times he asked for the mallard, and then the Water Spirit smiled and said: "You are a wise young man. When you leave my lodge my son will take you to the edge of the lake. After it is dark he will catch the mallard for you. But when you leave the lake don't look back."_

"_The boy did as he was told. The Water Spirit's son gathered some marsh grass from the edge of the lake and braided it into a rope. With this rope he caught the old mallard and led it ashore. He placed the rope in the boy's hand and told him to walk on, but not to look back until sunrise. As the boy walked on toward his camp in the darkness, he heard the duck's feathers flapping on the ground. Later he could no longer hear that sound. Instead he heard the sound of heavy feet pounding on the earth behind him, and from time to time the strange cry of an animal. The braided marsh grass turned into a rawhide rope in his hand. But he did not look back until dawn."_

"_At daybreak he turned around and saw a strange animal at the end of the rope, a horse. A voice told him to mount the animal and he did so, using the rawhide rope as a bridle. By the time he reached camp, he saw many other horses following him."_

"_The people of the camp were frightened by these strange animals, but the boy told them to have no fear. He dismounted and gave everybody horses from the herd that had followed him. There were plenty for everyone, and he had a large number left over for himself."_

"_Until that time, the people had only dogs for carrying their packs and dragging their travois. The boy now showed them how to use the horses for packing, how to break them for riding, and he also gave the horse its Blackfoot name, elk dog. One day the men asked him: "These elk dogs, would they be of any use in hunting buffalo?"_

_"Yes, let me show you," the boy replied, and as soon as they were mounted he led them out to a buffalo herd where he showed them how to chase buffalo on horseback. He also showed them how to make bridles, saddles, hackamores, whips and other gear for their horses. Once when they came to a river, the men asked him: "These elk dogs, are they of any use to us in water?"_

_He replied: "That is where they are best. I got them from the water." And he showed them how to use horses in crossing streams._

"_When the boy grew older, his people made him a chief, and since that time every Blackfoot chief has owned many horses."_

* * *

_When the story concluded his mother told him, "When you grow up and have children of your own it's important you remember the stories."_

"_I will Mama…" He vowed._

* * *

Johnny forced his mind back to the present. He struggled to keep his emotions at bay. He remembered feeling securely loved and wanted within his mother's embrace. Two years later she'd be gone leaving him alone with a father whose cold indifference left him dispirited and damaged. Emotions long dormant battled for supremacy. A little voice urged him to flee while he still had the chance.

He searched within and recalled the happier moments of early childhood. Days spent playing, riding, fishing, keeping company with Shannon, his mother always being close, his father happy and caring. These memories had him thoroughly engrossed. He lost track of time. A hand on his shoulder startled him badly. He hadn't heard anyone approach.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you but you were a million miles away. I saw you from the window. I'd know you from anywhere John Gage Jr."

Unsure of what to do Johnny looked into the understanding face of an older woman.

"I'm Elizabeth Gage, or Liz, if you prefer." His step-mother didn't attempt to hug him or even shake his hand which Johnny was grateful for. He appraised the woman before him. She was of average build with light brown hair cut in a short stylish wave. Gray flecked her hair in places. He placed her age to be in her forties which would make her ten years younger than his father. She wasn't a particularly striking woman but her eyes drew one's attention straight away. They were the brightest shade of blue he had ever seen. Johnny felt Liz missed nothing with those eyes. Right now those eyes were sizing him up.

He spoke in a neutral voice. "Imagine my surprise when I received a letter from a sister I didn't know I had and suggested we meet. I nearly didn't come. I still don't know what I'm doing here." Johnny honestly told her. "Is he home?"

"I do." Liz said knowingly. Mind if I call you Johnny?"

When Johnny didn't protest she continued, "I can imagine your reaction to finding out you had a half-sister and I can bet it wasn't as calm as your explaining it. Lisa only told me what she'd done after the letter was mailed. I'm sincerely sorry if this caused you distress. And no your father is not here at the moment, but will be shortly. Why don't we go inside while we wait for him."

Johnny followed Liz into his childhood home. As soon as he passed the threshold his breathing quickened and he broke out in a cold sweat. Liz watched his reaction,

"Memories are funny things. They can bring us joy or our worst pain. They have power over you if you let them. The trick is to take firm control of the ones you don't want and send them packing."

Johnny gave Liz a penetrating stare. Who was this woman his father married? Strangely, the anger and earlier resentment he'd experienced upon digesting the news his father remarried, was now absent. The awkwardness he felt had dissipated. When she asked, "Would you like anything to eat or drink?" he was reminded of Joanne. Johnny politely declined the offer of food or drink as his stomach wouldn't have handled anything right then anyway.

He glanced around. Tastefully decorated in a northwestern style, the house felt warm and inviting, something he hadn't expected. His gazed rested on the kitchen table. His father had built it for his mother as a wedding present. A memory surfaced of him sitting at the table watching his father drink. He pushed it back.

The fireplace had a few pictures displayed on the mantle and Johnny drifted over to them. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes came to rest on one frame in particular. The smiling faces of a ten year old Johnny and his mother sitting in the tire swing stared back at him. Johnny's eyes misted. "I have a clear memory of when this was taken."

"Keep it close then." Liz came to stand next to him. "She was beautiful your mother. You are her spitting image."

"Not many women would allow remembrances of a previous wife to stick around." Johnny remarked wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He glanced over the rest of the pictures. Liz's words reached out to him as he picked up another frame. "Get to know me Johnny and you'll find I'm not like most woman."

"No kidding I'm beginning to..." Johnny began only to cease talking abruptly as his eyes focused on the photograph in his hands.

The picture revealed three people, his father, Liz and a young girl, his sister who you couldn't mistake as a Gage. Johnny focused intently on his fathers face. The man in the picture had aged considerably though the gray hair added an aura of maturity. He wore a brilliant smile as he gazed at Liz. The impression Johnny read from his expression was contentment. Disconcerted he quickly put the frame back on the mantle.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel, about having a sister." A curious reaction went through him as he stood staring at Lisa's picture. A Gage alright, she inherited the eyes, hair, nose and chin. Liz understood the young man's discomfort. "Give yourself time Johnny. No one including Lisa expects anything from you."

"When was that taken?" he indicated the returned picture. "Lisa looks to be around around six?"

"As a paramedic I supposed you're good at judging ages. Taken two years ago, before John's accident."

"How did you know I'm a paramedic?" He asked surprised. Liz looked flustered for a brief moment. "Rebecca must have mentioned it."

Johnny nodded. "I didn't know anything about an accident until I read what Lisa had sent, obviously the man recovered."

Liz wore a puzzled frown as she said, "Let me show you something."

She walked toward his old bedroom. He followed and stopped before the closed door. Here he'd spent much of his time trying to stay hidden. He made no move to open the door so Liz opened it for him. He stood frozen taking it all in. A snapshot in time is how his mind equated it. His room remained exactly the way he'd left it, as if he'd been gone hours instead of years!

"Surprised?"

"More' an a little." Johnny mumbled. "Why didn't you use this room for Lisa instead of building an additional one?"

"He has a ritual, your father." Her penetrating blue eyes now rested on him giving off the impression she knew every one of his secrets. "Every night before heading to bed he opens this door, glances toward the bed then shuts the door. When I first observed him doing this I asked him about it."

Liz waited for Johnny to ask why. and when he didn't she continued, "For the longest time he wouldn't share why he did this, then one day he told me the reason. He does it so he never forgets, he said. When he opens the door, he remembers the boy with the broken heart and it was he who broke it."

Leaning heavily against the door's frame the words he'd heard were trying to knock through the hardened wall he'd erected over the years. Anger inundated him. Recovering Johnny spat acidly, "Well I'm glad to see he has the right of it."

"I'm not here to make excuses for him." Liz furnished calmly, "You came here for answers did you not Johnny? I am supplying them for you."

He turned and walked into the room on shaky legs, He slowly sank onto the bed staring at the floor, reverting to the childhood habit of not making eye contact. He thought he heard distant noises but ignored them as he began speaking. "The man you married might now be different; sober from what I'm told. I guess for what it's worth, and for your sake at least, he managed to get it together. But not when I was twelve years old."

His head lifted and he stopped speaking his indrawn breath of surprise heard by his step-mother. All his attention now riveted on something resting on the side table next to the bed. He reached over and reverently lifted a small statue of an appaloosa at full gallop. It was a replica of Snow Patch.

"I thought I'd lost this." His heart ached as he remembered who'd given it to him. Shannon presented it to him as an early gift for his sixteenth birthday. A week later his world fell apart with her death. He clearly remembered how frenzied he felt thinking he'd lost it while packing his belongings. He wondered where he'd left it. He carefully placed it back on the end table and resumed speaking, hardness creeping into his tone.

"I don't know how much you know of my father's past, but when my mother died my father turned overnight into this brutal mean drunk who would smack me around whenever he felt like it. Not only did I suffer the loss of my mother I dealt with the abandonment and indifference of my own father. I was twelve years old. Contemptuously he finished, "I've been struggling with these memories all of my adult life. Recently I'm made aware, the man who drove me away, moved on with his life, as if I didn't matter." He took a deep breath striving for control. Suddenly the room felt like it was closing in.

"I'm sorry. You were not a part of this mess and I shouldn't be unloading on you. Coming back here was a mistake I should go."

"No John. Let's finish it." His father said.


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Twelve

_The soul would have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears. Author unknown_

_

* * *

_

Johnny's body stiffened. Respirations doubled, he felt exposed. Slowly he rose to his feet unconsciously withdrawing; eyes closed trying to regulate his breathing. This was part of his nightmares, confronting his father. Once able to control his anxiety his eyes opened to the sight of his parent, having aged considerably from the man in the picture, sitting in a wheelchair. Absorbing this image, anger overshadowed his anxiety.

How dare he look so damn helpless it wasn't supposed to be this way!

Liz excused herself from the room saying she'd be outside on the porch.

"Son," his father's addressed him wearing an unreadable expression.

Caustically Johnny replied, "you lost the right to call me son the day I left."

The older man winced but kept eye contact. Hands planted on the wheels of his chair he moved himself further inside the doorway.

"Why are you here John?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"I'm surprised it's taken you twelve years to exact your pound of flesh." John senior's words sounded more like the hard man Johnny remembered.

Giving himself time to collect his scattered thoughts, Johnny sat back down on the edge of the bed. Squaring his shoulders he impaled the older man with an unwavering stare refusing to be the first to look away. His father didn't flinch at the anger or condemnation he saw in his son's eyes as he waited for him to speak.

"You've aged, among other things." Johnny managed. "I never imagined I would be here confronting the s. o. b. who made my life hell."

"I never imagined you'd be here either, yet here you are all grown up. I see the way you're looking at me. Don't let the sight of me being in this chair stop you."

"It won't be a problem. I have plenty to say. I guarantee you won't like any of it."

"It's been a long time in coming, so have at it John. Afterward, I'll take my turn."

Voice and action matched his mood of cynicism."Oh, you're good at taking things." Johnny's hands resting lightly on his chest gave emphasis to his words, "I was only twelve yet you managed to take away my sense of worth, ability to trust, and my sense of security. Not enough, you also managed to steal my hope. You took 'em and ground 'em under a callous hand."

Suddenly unsure of himself he faltered, losing ground.

Hawkish eyes raked him.

Reaching within, the dam of emotion burst open. Years of pent up feelings spilled forth with effective result. Words he'd wanted to say, and had said in the silence of his mind, and in his dreams, were finally given voice.

"Yah know, this place brought me nothing but misery after mom died. I was basically alone. My one selfish hope was possibly you," his words devoid of warmth, "might someday notice the person I was instead of look at me like I was _nothing."_

John senior dropped his eyes from his son's face, but not before he noticed the nervous childhood gesture of John's, running his hand through his hair. The boy started pacing.

"I began to believe just like you said . . . I'd _killed_ my mother. . . . I had the flu first, and she'd contracted it from me! As I grew older I knew better. How could anyone blame a child?"

His body motion ceased his eyes wearing a blank expression, his voice conveying overshadowing sorrow."My spirit withdrew a little each day knowing you blamed me for my mother's death. There were times," the emotionally worn man's voice dropped, "I'd wished I had died along with mom, because then the empty hollow numbness I always carried inside me would be gone."

Up till now the man in the chair had remained impassive, but the powerful words flowing from his son started to have an impact.

Unable to keep still Johnny resumed his pacing. "While other boys my age were spending time with their dads, I spent my time trying to avoid and hide from mine! This was my refuge," his hands indicating the room. "The reason I stayed hidden was my father couldn't stand the sight of his own son!"

"My salvation was Shannon . . . the single most important person to me after mom died, the only one I completely _trusted_, was taken from my life too. You knew, and kept silent."

The easy-to-read emotion displayed across his features was crushing loss. He looked directly into his father's face wanting to bare witness to the reaction his next set of words would invoke. "Do ya have any idea . . . the damage . . . you inflicted on me by your cold-hearted lack of empathy?"

"Every minute of every day, I know," his father broke in quickly with an answer. The exposed shame and real remorse the younger man witnessed threatened to derail him. He was forced to look away to regain his equilibrium.

"Kevin Foster informed you about Shannon's accident thinking the news coming from you, would help soften the blow. As if anything could have. They may have suspected but didn't realize the depth of your indifference to me. God, you knew how close the two of us where! We were practically raised together, yet you kept it from me." Johnny's anger filled the room.

"The day of my birthday I discovered in the cruelest way possible, over the phone, my best friend was gone! The bottom dropped out of my life. My old man found it more important to be out drinkin' with his buddies, than help his son cope. There was no comfort for me!" He stopped speaking to rein in his anger.

John senior watched him pace. The man before him was filled with so much anger and intense emotion he couldn't help but experience it. He was the reason it was there. A slight heaviness in his chest made him uncomfortable.

"You didn't care about my birthday after mom died, but Shan did and always managed to make me feel important on this day. After Shannon died I didn't want any more birthdays."

Taking on a melancholy tenor he continued, "I didn't fit anywhere. Treated like an outsider, not quite Indian, not quite white, became too much. I had just turned sixteen years old, and couldn't see anything better on my horizon."

He stopped pacing long enough to say, "Did ya know the night of Shannon's funeral I planned to _end_ my life?" This news shook the man in the chair. Johnny observed his father's face taking on a strained appearance.

"I see ya didn't."

While Johnny's features remained impassive his tone of voice left little doubt as to how he felt. "The constant emotional ache battered me day in and day out. Every morning it would greet me, and every night I'd fall asleep, rejected and bruised."

Johnny halted taking in a deep uneven breath. "I needed to be heard and recognized, I had a right to exist but I felt invisible and no one cared enough to listen. It wore me down until I had nothing left inside. I was tired, dad, of crying alone in the dark."

John senior closed his eyes and swallowed hard, sweat began beading on his forehead.

Johnny's expression gave away nothing as he gazed at his father. "I'm standing here only because I couldn't bring dishonor to the two people who meant everything to me. I figured they'd expect more from me."

The paramedic in him wondered if he should stop, the older man looked uncomfortable, pale and perspiring, but emotions kept long denied propelled him to keep going.

He halted directly in front of his father and looked down. John Sr. opened his eyes and immediately broke contact, unable to withstand the intensive pair of brown eyes staring at him.

"The real irony here is I knew you weren't perfect... but I needed someone, anyone in my life, even if it meant you were drunk most of the time. You were the only father I'd ever have. All I wanted from you . . . was confirmation it wasn't my fault Mama died . . . and . . . " his voice cracked ". . . hear you say I meant something to you." His head dropped and he looked to the floor. An awful silence settled in every corner of the room. Finally his father broke the tense silence.

"Look at me," he commanded.

When Johnny lifted his head he wasn't prepared for the regret, and radiating sadness, etched on his parent's face. He immediately shut it out, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm aware of the damage I caused. It took Rehab, to enlighten me to many issues. I don't know if you will understand. My selfishness, my indifference as you label it was for self-preservation. The alcohol dulled the pain of life without your mother. With the death of your mother I became lost, and without her I thought I was nothing. It created a vacuum."

Incredulous Johnny cut in, "Do you hear yourself? No one forced ya to drink that crap, and then take out your frustrations on me. You dishonored mom's memory and sacrificed your son for a bottle of booze."

Sounding winded the older man continued, "I already feel you have closed yourself off from this conversation, John. I need you to put aside your loathing of me for the moment, and keep an open mind. How easily you stand in judgment of me. You didn't experience what I did in that hospital room. Watching someone you love die isn't clean cut like they show in the movies." A far-away expression told Johnny his father was back in that hospital room.

"The sound of the last breath they take will remain with you always. . . . The noise it makes as it expels out, the marked silence afterward, when you are straining to hear them inhale—searching for any sign of life but knowing it's over—your emotions suspended until the ugly reality sets in . . . you will never again feel their warm body against yours. The things you wanted to say will never be spoken, the dreams you had together will never be realized as the cold presence of death fills the room. You can't move. You watch helplessly as the team of doctors and nurses try to bring the still form back from darkness. Then you experience a suffocating silence. You hear them pronounce time of death and watch them drape a sheet over the body you will never hug again . . . ." Coming back to himself he looked at his son. He mopped his brow with a hankie. He hands shook badly. "No it isn't like the movies. And, it wasn't over for me. I had a child without a mother. No relatives of mine were willing to help. The only other person was your aunt living in another state, and she didn't exactly approve of me."

Johnny couldn't help but be affected by his father's vivid recollection of events, but it didn't slow down his answer or his anger. "All the more reason for you to have taken responsibility for me, instead of wallowing in self-pity. You weren't the only one who lost that day, Dad. I may not have been in the room with you, but when you gave me the news ya showed no compassion. You didn't even look at me when ya carelessly broke the news. Your mother's dead, you said and walked away. I know the bitterness of loss. I lost mom. I lost Shannon. I lost you the day mom died, so don't you dare imply you have the monopoly on what it's like to suffer."

"I would think someone in your profession would be a little more insightful to the reality of death.

His eyes grew large, stung he said, "Go to hell."

The older man moved his chair all the way into the room, slamming the door behind him so hard it caused everything on the walls to bounce, a piece of artwork crashed to the floor. Johnny stepped back allowing space between them.

The voice Johnny well remembered spoke curtly. "I've already been to hell, boy. I watched powerless as the illness took your mother! It created a bottomless void. You are her mirror image, so every time I looked at you I saw _her_! I see her now."

"I can't help how I look."

John senior shook his head and rubbed his arm. "No you can't. Guilt will do crazy things to a man's head. I'd convinced myself I'd failed her and in doing so deprived you of a mother. Guilt ate at me like some slow deadly poison. I know now there wasn't a damn thing I could have done to prevent the outcome of your mother dying! But at the time I couldn't see it. I pretended she wasn't dying but she knew, and her last words were of you . . ."

Johnny inhaled sharply when he heard this. "Why didn't you ever tell me this?"

"It wouldn't have changed anything, she was gone."

"Yes she was, and those words whatever they were would have been of comfort to me. I know you remember what they were." Johnny didn't ask. He demanded to be told.

The old man seemed to age even further as he said, "She wanted you to know she would always love you, and I was to remind you of this often. She made me promise you would be cared for. Not to allow you to become a reservation statistic."

The man in the chair sighed as he watched the heartsick look appear across John's face.

"I broke that promise over and over, adding to my list of sins. I put you through an existence of misery because of my own limitations. It took me a long time to become conscious of the harm I'd inflicted. When I did, you'd already started getting into trouble. I had to make a decision and it would take you from me, possibly for a lifetime."

Johnny stopped pacing. "What are you talking about?"

"You think I wasn't aware of what happened the night of Shannon's funeral but I was. I remember that evening clearly because it was one of those rare nights I chose not to drink myself into oblivion. I'd seen Kevin. He came to find me. He'd just buried his daughter but was worried about you. It had to be serious or he wouldn't have hunted me down, we were no longer on speaking terms. He told me how detached you were at Shannon's funeral, that you were severely depressed. He'd gone to the house looking for you but you either hadn't shown up from having walked from the cemetery or ignored the door. He said if our friendship ever meant anything, I would get myself home and his parting words I won't ever forget."

He recited them for Johnny benefit. "'Everything . . . you've already suffered will . . . pale in comparison to the pain of losing your child. You will find no comfort at all in the bottom of that bottle when another gravestone marker is added to the cemetery. His meaning was crystal clear."

Johnny stopped cold. Kevin Foster had had felt his despondency and went to his father for help?

"I came home to find you curled into a tight ball on the couch. You clutched a picture of your mother and Shannon in your hand. You'd been drinking I could see the evidence of it from what was missing in the bottle. You shuddered every few moments; it was obvious you had been crying heavily. You were heartbroken. I looked at you for a long time. I couldn't watch you turn into me. It was a lucid sober moment and I knew you'd be far better off away from here. I sent for your Aunt Rose."

Body tense, Johnny's voice held a sharp-edge "What's this?"

"She never told you?" Seeing the stark anger and confusion on his son's face, he knew Rose hadn't.

"What? What didn't she tell me?"

"Apparently the truth." John senior paled even further the implication of what he'd just discovered leaving him stunned. "I told her to take you to LA. There was little hope for you here. The understanding between us was for her to tell you why I sent you away after you had time to grieve, not that you would have cared, you hated me."

Johnny heard the words, but couldn't process them. He felt as if he had some of the symptoms of heat stroke. His stomach cramped, his head pounded. His whole body felt heated, and his breathing increased. He felt disoriented. He couldn't form a coherent thought, nor speak it if he could.

Minutes dragged on until he found his voice, "What are you saying? Aunt Rosie's version of the story was a lie?" His stomach turned making him feel nauseated.

"I knew how strong your beliefs were, raised within this culture. I told her to do what she felt necessary to get you to leave." The elders face showed distress, while the younger battled uncertainty.

His father sent him away?

He wasn't ready to accept this version. Years of believing in another story blocked any truth his father was trying to impart. Derision oozed from his voice, "God, you are _unbelievable_. Aunt Rose was nothing short of a saint in my eyes. Why are you telling me this? What possible reason would she have to lie to me?" He once again started pacing.

The wheelchair bound man sighed heavily his voice sounding strained, he absently rubbed his chest.

"For starters she never liked the idea your mother married me. Your aunt was a contradictory woman. Even though she lived and worked among the whites, Rose didn't want her sister marrying someone outside their own race. She wanted Lisa to move away with her to LA and not stay here on the reservation. When I married your mother and we made the decision to remain here on the reservation, Rose couldn't accept me and kept her distance. She seldom came to Montana. She visited when you were born, and then maybe twice more. When your mother died she blamed me for keeping her here."

Johnny would have dismissed this as another excuse only Kevin Foster had hinted of this in his letter and he hadn't recalled many visits his aunt made when he was younger.

Struggling with this new information Johnny couldn't understand why his aunt would have kept something like this from him. Looking back he could now see he'd made it easy for his aunt to do just that. He'd been angry, devastated over Shannon's death and his father's indifference, he never questioned his aunt. He accepted it when she'd told him his father wanted no contact. The years passed.

He wasn't ready to acknowledge anything his father said, it would mean his life was manipulated by the woman he'd come to love and respect.

He turned his back to his father. Denial laced his words. "No! You think that by telling me this now, the years I suffered under your roof will just disappear? It won't happen. None of this information changes anything. If what you're saying is true you had plenty of time to contact me. I never heard from you."

"Your aunt told me you didn't want anything to do with me, that you had embraced your new life and I wasn't a part of it."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will." The edgy man's voice increased in volume, "I'm telling you the truth now so accept it or _n- not_." His voice choked off.

Johnny's body whipped around at that sound. He looked to his father who showed physical distress, his hands clutching his chest.

For a loaded moment, Johnny didn't move. The years of mental torment, nightmares and emotional baggage he carried because of this man kept him standing still. But, in the next moment the paramedic took over and he reacted.

He reached his father's side, and grasped his wrist. The afflicted man's pulse beat rapidly under his fingers in a wild rhythm. Johnny could see he was diaphoretic and even though he didn't have a blood pressure cuff, he bet his blood pressure was through the roof."

"Liz!" He shouted.

As she came into the room she exclaimed, "John!"

"Call for an ambulance." The paramedic instructed calmly.

"N-No." Eyes tightly closed against the pain the distressed man uttered, "Stable Angina just . . . need . . . nitro pill . . . right pocket." Johnny reached into his father's shirt pocket and pulled out a pill box. Opening it up, examining its contents, he took out one and placed it under his father's tongue. He stepped back not offering the usual words of comfort to help calm a patient. Liz offered them instead. The paramedic watched for signs of increased pain, labored breathing, and changes in the older man's skin coloring. After a minute Johnny asked, without emotion, "the pain any better?" He received a nod. Johnny watched the color slowly return to his father's face and his breathing ease as the medication took hold.

"I'd call his doctor." His glance shifted toward Liz, who knelt at her husband's side.

"I'm feeling better." His father reported.

Johnny nodded. Nitro Glycerin tablets worked quickly once administered. The man did look stable.

God, he was tired. In the next breath the emotionally buffeted paramedic was heading for the door. "I'm sorry I need to clear my head. I'll return later."

"Wait, Johnny." Hesitating he hung back.

"I want you to have something." He followed Liz into the living room. She picked up a thick bundle of paper rubber-banded together from the coffee table, and held it out to him. Johnny absently took the bundle. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked her eyes scrutinizing him.

"No," he answered and quickly made his escape.

Liz went to her husband as the front door shut and he grasped her hand. "You haven't had an attack in a long time."

He ignored her words and said, "I can't reach him."

"Listen to me John. You'll probably dislike what I'm about to say, but that hasn't ever stopped me. I met you before you started on you're road to recovery. You were not a kind person. He came home to confront that individual and instead finds you in a wheelchair, sober. His sense of balance has been taken from him. Don't expect him to instantly accept what he's been told."

Is this the psyche nursing speaking now? Are you preparing me for his rejection?"

"You should be prepared for the possibility, John. Although he handled himself professionally just now, I witnessed his lack of warmth. He is conflicted. Don't expect anything from him right now, he can't give it."

She walked away heading for the phone. "I'm going to contact Dr. Logan. He may want to see you."


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

_Last Chapter  
_

The Long Road Home

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

The one place Johnny remembered being able to think was Birdrattler Cemetery and that's where he'd driven to. As he parked the rover he remembered how peaceful he always felt when visiting his mother's grave.

Cemeteries were for the living he believed, a physical connection to the deceased. No matter the level of his emotional turmoil, whenever he'd visited he'd been surrounded by an atmosphere of security and serenity.

Unlike most of the graves he passed by, he discovered his mother's devoid of weeds and free of overgrown grass. Somebody visited recently. There were flowers, maybe a couple of days old, resting in water next to the headstone. This section of the cemetery he had to himself. He dropped his weary body to the ground and sat next to the block of granite, soaking up the quiet solitude of the burial ground.

Even though he knew her spirit wasn't here Johnny began speaking, just as he had as a youth.

"I've been absent for awhile Mama." His fingers played with a bit of grass as he spoke. "Nothing is what I pictured it would be. Instead of the drunk I remember, there's an aged man in a wheelchair, with another family."

He unbundled the pile of letters he had brought with him. He picked up the first one uncertain if he really wanted to know what was in them. Bracing himself he began to read. As he read letter after letter severe disappointment settled over him. The view of his aunt became clouded with uncertainty. He couldn't deny these letters. They were written in his aunt's own hand. His father had not fabricated his version of events. He had sent him to live with his aunt.

He read his life in these letters. His father had known of his high school graduation, his decision to join the fire department, his subsequent graduation and then paramedic training. There were a score of other's along with newspaper articles highlighting the paramedic program successes.

He sat in disbelief. His aunt had been giving his father regular updates on his progress up until she died. What compelled her to withhold this information? By allowing him to believe his father had written him off was she settling scores? It just didn't make sense. She had become his surrogate mother and he wouldn't have suspected such dishonesty. What troubled him the most; he wouldn't be getting any answers.

Emotionally trampled, the bitter taste of duplicity weighed heavily upon him. Extremely tired, his day wasn't over. He had to return to the house. He looked at his watch. It was going on three thirty in the afternoon. If the school schedule had been kept the same Lisa was either home from school or would be arriving soon. He bundled up the pile of letters securing them with the thick rubber band, stood and stretched. He gazed once more at his mother's headstone before leaving. There wasn't a need to speak, because his heart did it for him.

* * *

When he'd returned to the house his father was outside on the porch. The paramedic did an instant survey of the man. He looked tired but otherwise, well.

Tension seized his shoulders and neck area, as walked up the ramp and sat down on the porch swing. Johnny wanted this day gone, but he'd come this far. He'd see it through to its end. He leaned back, sighing as he did. His legs pushed the swing into motion.

For the next few minutes the thick silence was broken by the occasional squeak of the swing as it moved back and forth.

"You read her letters." It wasn't a question.

"I won't discuss this with you." Johnny warned. He changed the subject. "What time does Lisa arrive home?"

Glancing at his watch the elder replied. "She'll be here in fifteen minutes. Lisa knows you and I had a falling out years ago. She's aware of my drinking past and that I was married. I know she will ask me someday why you left. I think she may have her own ideas, but she has never asked."

Johnny shot back. "By the letter she sent me, I think she may be asking sooner than you think."

"What do we do now? Where do we go from here John?"

Johnny wasn't completely taken by surprise. This laden question would've been asked at some point. He heard the yearning but wouldn't acknowledge it.

Stilling the swing, he sat up. "We don't. Two many years have passed and I am still battling the repercussions."

"I never dreamed you'd be so unyielding."

Johnny stood and leaned his body up against the porch rail facing his father.

"Let me tell ya something about dreams. Beside the nightmares which have been with me for years, I also had ambitions of having a normal life, with a father proud of my accomplishments, and who acknowledged his love. None of it happened because it _was _only a childhood fantasy. I left that particular dream behind when I went to live with Aunt Rose."

"God knows," his father intervened somewhat flustered, "if I could go back and change things, I would but I can't. All I can do is to tell you how sorry I am for the way I treated you."

"What is it you expect of me?" There was no anger in his words, just unadorned truth. "You've cleaned up you're act and that's great for Liz and Lisa. It seems we've both been mislead by Aunt Rose, but it doesn't change anything. Let me be frank. You were abusive and for me you caused emotional scars…scars recently reopened trying to help a young boy with an abusive father. It nearly burned me out. If it hadn't been for my friends rally rounding me, it would have."

"Son…"

"Whether by your action or Aunt Rose, my life is in California. I have a good life. I love what I do and I have friends I consider family. I wouldn't push this, you'll only be disappointed." He turned away from his father and looked out over the front yard.

There was no more communication between them.

A few minutes later a school bus stopped at the end of the driveway. A young girl exited. Her long brown hair was in a ponytail and she carried a bunch of school books in her arms. A mini version of the man sitting beside him, Johnny thought. She noticed the vehicle parked in the driveway and went to investigate. Her eyes grew large as she inspected the license plate. Her eyes swung to the porch, she spied her father and continued searching until her eyes rested on him.

John Sr. watched the expression of absolute amazement cross his daughters face.

She stopped walking and stared. "Ohm God."

"Come meet your brother Lisa."

His sister joined them on the porch giving her father a kiss on the cheek. She gave Johnny a hesitant smile.

"Hello Lisa." Seeing her in the flesh made the realization permanent. He had a younger half-sister.

"Hello." She said and then more exuberantly. "Can I call you Johnny? That's what they call you at the fire station right? John sounds so old." Becoming conscious of what she'd said, she sheepishly apologized, "Um, sorry daddy."

John Sr. smiled indulgently at his offspring. Watching the interaction between father and daughter was a bittersweet moment for him. It had been once this way for him.

John Sr. caught the emotion on his son's face. "I'll leave you two alone." Wheeling his chair around John senior entered the house.

Lisa placed her books on a vacant chair and sat next to him. "I didn't think you would come."

"I only found out about you Lisa due to your letter."

She gave her brother her perspective, "its okay, you came when you found out."

"Are you sure you're eight?" Johnny asked giving her a grin.

Lisa nodded rewarding him with a bright smile.

"Well ya might look like your father," He told her honestly, "but I'm betting ya act like you're mother."

Lisa shrugged. "He's your father too."

"What?"

"Dad, he's yours too."

Johnny remained quiet. There was no denying that fact.

"Dad made you sad didn't he?" Her question had him wondering just what she knew.

"Lets not talk about that, tell me what you like to do…"

* * *

He'd brought his camping gear with him and set it up behind the house a little ways into the woods. The invitation had been extended for him to stay in the house but he declined the offer. As long of a day as it had been he tossed and turned most of the night.

The next day he spent his time reacquainting himself with the town of Browning which hadn't changed much. He revisited all his old haunts, returning to the house only when Lisa arrived home from school. He discovered his sister had an engaging wit, and found her life was filled with school, friends, and phone calls.

On Friday Lisa asked to visit the Foster Ranch so Johnny took her. Kevin and Rebecca were surprised and welcomed him warmly.

It became a visit of reminiscence for him. This was the first time since Shannon death he'd set foot on the property. Later, when he'd walked into the barn to exam the horses, the smell triggered a memory of what would become a last conversation he'd had with Shannon.

* * *

"_Firefly, before you leave to go home I have something for you." Shannon said walking into the barn, hands behind her back smiling broadly. "Try and guess first."_

"_G__ive me a hint?" Johnny having no idea what it was she held. _

"_It's small."_

"_That's not much to go on Shan."_

"_Okay, um, it's about four inches tall, seven or eight inches long. The color is brown and white and something you really like."_

"_Is it food? Cuz I'm hungry."_

"_Be serious John." She said feigning exasperation._

"_I don't know Shan, what is it?"_

"_You didn't even try," she said bringing her hands from behind her back. "Happy Birthday." Giving him an engaging smile she gave him a gift-wrapped box. "I know it's not for another week but I wanted you to have this one early. The other gift I have you'll get on your birthday."  
_

_Opening it up Johnny discovered a replica of Snow Patch in full gallop" "Shan this is perfect!" Johnny cried pleased and touched by the gift._

"_I know Snow Patch is your favorite. I'm glad you like it."_

_Giving her a hug, Johnny told her. "It's so like you, Shan. Thank you."_

_

* * *

_

"Johnny?" Lisa's calling pulled him back to the present. "Something wrong?"

"Its nuthin sweetie, don't worry about it. Which is your favorite horse…?"

* * *

After he dropped his sister back at the house he headed for the cemetery, only a different one this time. He had uncompleted business. It was an hour before sundown when Johnny arrived at Earring Cemetery.

"I've missed you Shannon." He spoke softly to her headstone.

His eyes burned with emotion. "I've come to say words I didn't say at your funeral because I wasn't ready to let you go."

He reached up and unclasped a chain from around his neck. From it dangled a gold pendant depicting a full moon surrounded by glowing fireflies. Turning it over his eyes scanned the engraving he knew by heart.

_Hope is in the eternal light of the firefly. _

He spoke as he secured the necklace once more. "Even though you couldn't give this to me yourself, your father made sure I received it. He told me you had this made for my birthday. I have kept it with me these many years as a reminder of the bond we shared. You were a sister to me and I loved you. Thank you for showing me hope."

* * *

Friday night, the stars shone luminously. The night air was chilly when he'd come outside with Lisa and they were currently enjoying a warm fire and talking at his campsite. Lisa wrapped up in his sleeping bag reminded Johnny of camping with Chris and Jen.

Millions of glittering points of light hung over them within a backdrop of black ink. You could clearly see a band of the Milky Way. The night sky could be spectacular in California, if you were high enough in elevation or out in the open desert. But here, with relatively no other light vying for competition, you saw the night sky in majestic glory. Once you've seen it this way, you could never forget it.

He began pointing out the constellations to Lisa and was surprised at how knowledgeable she already was.

"They taught you astronomy in school?"

"No, Daddy did. We come outside lots in the summer and we watch for falling stars."

Innocently spoken she had no idea what kind of effect those words would have on him, or maybe she did. She looked at him very seriously in the next instant and apologized. "I didn't mean to make you sad."

Wow, the kid could read him like a book. It was a little unnerving. "You didn't." he fudged,

"Johnny?"

"Hum?"

"Are you sorry you came?"

Without hesitation he answered, "No pipsqueak, I wanted to meet you."

"But you and daddy don't get along. Mom works with people who can help if you have problems."

He picked his words carefully. "I don't want you to worry about Dad and me."

"But you're so sad and he's so sad."

"Lisa what happened between Dad and me happened a long time ago. He's changed. It shouldn't have any effect on your relationship with him now do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

She readily accepted his answer. "I understand. He was different when you were younger. I get it." She switched her thinking and asked, "Since you're _way _older than me do you have any friends who have children?"

"Oh just what I wanted to hear, I'm old." He teased. "My best friend has two children. There names are Christopher and Jennifer…"

* * *

Johnny was ready to return to California. Early Sunday morning he stood on the threshold saying farewell to his sister. He supplied Lisa with his address and phone numbers. She'd asked for Jennifer's address too so she could write her a letter.

He promised to keep in contact. He told her to call whenever she wanted and he'd visit when he could. He had a feeling being separated by a thousand miles wasn't going to be a deterrent for her. She gave him a wallet sized school picture of herself, and she insisted her mother take a picture of the two of them together.

Slowly he reached up and unclasped his necklace and held it out to her. "I want you to have this. It is very special to me. It is a reminder of a brother-sister bond. When you wear it remember we are connected by a promise which shares our last name, and the promise is I'm only a phone call away."

She thanked him took his gift and immediately put it on. She came close and whispered to him. "I'm glad you came home." Johnny held her tightly. "Me too squirt." He whispered back.

He kept a cool reserve within his father's presence.

Upon departing his father's words spoke to the teen boy from his past. Both Liz and Lisa retreated into the house to give the two, privacy. Johnny stepped out on the porch and closed the door. He stood stiffly, hands shoved into his jean pockets, waiting for his father to speak.

"John, I don't know if you will ever be able to accept this. No matter what you may believe from here on out, believe this. These words should have been spoken years ago, and I know you'll probably feel they are empty comfort now. You did not cause your mother's death regardless of what I may have said while I was drinking. I apologize for my abusive behavior toward you."

Wise brown eyes bore into his son's with fierce concentration. "The burden I bear is in knowing I have to live with the consequences my actions created the rest of my life. I lost track of everything meaningful in my life for awhile. It comes with a price and it is steep. It cost me the respect and love of my son. You might not want to hear this, but I must say it before the chance departs with you. The most precious thing I had I didn't see until _you_ were gone and I am about to watch it happen again, only this time I'm sober and it hurts."

Johnny responded candidly. "I craved hearing words like this from you. I thought when I was sixteen and heard them somehow they would magically take away all the harm and sorrow you caused. I'm grown now and it isn't as simple as that is it? The words I know you want me to say I can't speak. I came here to settle unfinished business and I have accomplished it. I can finally put this period in my life behind me and move forward. Down the road I may be able to forgive you Dad, but it isn't today. You have another chance with Lisa, be happy with that."

John senior watched his son drive away. Bitter regret, longing, and a lost relationship kept him on the porch long after his son's departure. There hadn't been enough time to tell him all he'd wanted to say.

* * *

Johnny arrived home late Monday night having taken his time driving. It felt good to be home. Before heading for bed he'd taken a shower and unpacked. Tucked away on the bottom of his luggage he found a box with a note attached.

_Johnny,_

_You should have this back. It represents the positive things you had in your life._

_Liz._

It was Snow Patch. He found his step-mother's words comforting.

* * *

The return to work came with a greeting from the phantom, only he wasn't its recipient.

"Welcome back Gage." Chet said as he stood dripping water all over the kitchen floor.

"Ya didn't have to drown yourself on my account Chet." Johnny said laughing over Chet's backfiring joke. "Ya could've simply said hello."

"Looks like the Phantom confused his pigeon." Marco added only to start laughing.

"It isn't often we see Kelly getting his lumps. I like this." Mike threw in.

"Ha, ha you two," Chet made a face.

"You might as well have your say." Chet demanded of Roy who unfortunately stepped into the puddle on the floor as he walked into the kitchen.

"Better clean up your mess before somebody takes a spill."

It was good to have everyone working together again Hank thought, as he watched a soaked Chet being escorted into the locker room by John. His medic seemed at ease and well rested.

"I don't know what happened," Chet was telling his intended target. "I swear the trigger mechanism was on the left not the right."

"Better luck next time Kelly." Johnny smothered a laugh, smacking his friend on the back.

* * *

Two weeks later Johnny received a phone call from Kevin Brown. Ryan had been placed into their custody. His mother was ordered to attend counseling through Parents Anonymous. She was asked to attend meetings for battered woman as well.

Rodger Clayton was sentenced to six months jail time, and a three year probation period for driving under the influence and causing a vehicle accident with injuries. Having a child under the age of fourteen in the car with him mitigated the enhanced sentence. Part of his probation required he attend spousal abuse counseling, paired with Parent Anonymous and alcohol abuse classes. While it wasn't a permanent solution, Kevin explained, it would give Ryan a calmer home situation which he'd been missing from his life, until now.

A few days later Johnny pulled up in front of the Brown home. He'd sought permission to spend time with the youngster and it had been granted. He was the reason he'd taken the long road home and faced his other life.

Knocking on the door Johnny was greeted by an older teen boy.

"Hi, I've come to see Ryan my name is Johnny."

"Sure just a minute my cousin knows your coming."

"Ryan," the older boy yelled into house, "someone's here to see you."

Linda Brown came to the door. "Hello Mr. Gage. Ryan will be here in a second." Turning serious she added, "We can never thank you enough for what you've done. It was your deposition which helped render the decision in our favor."

Johnny felt a flush begin to creep up his face. He'd been asked to supply a deposition chronicling his dealings with the family and the medical emergencies they'd responded too. He also wrote a candid personal letter, giving his reasons why he felt Ryan needed to be placed with his aunt and uncle.

He was saved from further discomfort when Ryan came to the door.

"Hi Ryan, I thought maybe we could play some catch." Holding up a ball and two baseball mitts he waited. At first Johnny was afraid Ryan would refuse, but then the emotionally recovering mentor was rewarded by a young boy's indisputable smile.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

END


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